.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES 


SIMPLY  A    LOVE-STORY. 


BY 


PHILIP     ORNE. 


BOSTON: 
CUPPLES,  UPHAM,  AND    COMPANY. 

©to  Comer  Bookstore, 
1885. 


Copyright,  1885, 
BY  CUPPLES,  UPHAM,  AND  COMPANY. 


All  rights  rtstrvtd. 


Hnibtrgitg 
JOMK  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE. 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 


I. 


MRS.  MILES  STANDISH  was  giving  a 
garden  party  for  her  daughter  Hilde- 
garde,  and  the  heavens  had  conspired  with  the 
earth  to  make  Miss  Hildegarde's  party  a  success. 
Mrs.  Miles  Standish,  however,  was  one  of  the 
wise  people  who  know  that  the  gods  help  only 
those  who  help  themselves  ;  and  although  there 
was  every  reason  to  believe  that  Hildegarde 
Standish  would  shine  in  society  if  left  to  her 
untutored  impulses,  Mrs.  Standisbi  -had  moved 
heaven  and  earth  to  make  her  daughter's  suc- 
cess more  complete.  Not  that  she  had  put  her 
daughter  forward,  or  caused  her  to  be  talked 
about  ;  she  was  far  too  wise.  Hildegarde  was 
to  make  her  debut  the  following  winter,  and  for 
the  past  year  the  world  of  society  had  seen  just 
enough  of  her  to  excite  its  curiosity  without 


2131815 


8  £  IMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

destroying  that  charm  of  freshness  and  novelty 
which  some  debutantes  have  lost  long  before 
their  first  season.  But  the  path  of  success, 
like  the  path  of  virtue,  is  a  narrow  one  ;  and 
Hildegarde,  if  too  closely  shut  up  from  the 
world,  would  lack  that  wide  circle  of  bowing 
acquaintance  so  necessary  to  a  good  start  in 
the  social  race.  Therefore,  in  the  middle  of 
June,  before  every  one  had  gone  away  for  the 
summer,  Mrs.  Standish  invited  all  the  people 
she  knew  to  a  garden  party  at  her  suburban 
house,  —  as  she  said,  "so  that  Hilda  may  know 
some  people  when  she  comes  out  next  winter." 

Mrs.  Standish  and  her  daughter  received  their 
guests  in  the  great  hall  of  the  house, — one  of  the 
few  halls  deserving  the  name  that  our  country 
boasts*  The  house  had  come  down  to  Mr. 
Standish  through  several  generations,  and  he 
and  his  ancestors  had  had  the  good  taste  to  let 
it  keep  a  colonial  flavor,  which  did  not  interfere 
with  modern  comfort. 

Mrs.  Standish  had  been  a  beautiful  girl  five 
and  twenty  years  before,  and  much  of  her  beauty 
was  left  to  her  now,  —  enough  at  least  to  enable 
her  contemporaries  to  call  her  a  very  handsome 
woman  ;  but  her  years  had  not  doubled  her 
beauty  by  adding  to  it  the  calm  dignity  and 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE'S  TORY.  9 

repose  which  they  ought  to  bring ;  they  had 
covered  it  over  with  a  look  of  unrest,  —  so 
common  in  New  England,  —  which,  cherished 
at  first  as  showing  that  its  wearer  has  escaped 
from  frivolity,  hardens  with  age  into  second 
nature.  Hildegarde  stood  beside  her  mother. 
She  was  tall,  with  fair  hair  and  blue  eyes, — 
not  half  so  handsome  as  her  mother  was  at  her 
age,  Mrs.  Standish's  friends  were  wont  to  say  ; 
but  this  was  a  fact  which  their  sceptical  children 
were  loath  to  take  on  trust.  And  Hildegarde's 
forehead  and  eyes  had  a  restful  look,  which 
made  every  one  who  saw  her  hope  and  believe 
that  her  beauty  wqyld  not  fade  as  her  mother's 
had  done. 

From  their  place  in  the  hall  Mrs.  Standish 
and  her  daughter  looked  out  on  the  sloping  lawn, 
shaded  here  and  there  with  well-grouped  maples 
or  an  occasional  elm.  In  the  distance,  beyond 
the  valley  which  lay  below  the  Standish  place, 
the  beautiful  curves  of  a  range  of  distant  hills 
were  marked  against  the  sky.  The  lawn  was 
thickly  sprinkled  with  ladies  and  gentlemen, — 
the  ladies  in  that  pretty  variety  of  dress  which 
a  garden  party  allows,  and  which  gives  it,  on 
their  part,  the  effect  of  a  fancy  ball ;  the  gen- 
tlemen also  in  every  kind  of  costume  which  the 


10  SIMPLY  A  LOl'E-STORY. 

tailor's  art  can  devise,  the  more  timid  justifying 
their  peculiar  habit  by  the  license  a  garden  party 
is  admitted  to  give,  the  bolder  asserting  that 
some  specially  outlandish  costume  was  all  the 
rage  in  England. 

The  stream  of  guests  had  run  almost  dry, 
and  Mrs.  Standish  had  just  told  Hildegarde  that 
she  might  go  out  upon  the  lawn  as  soon  as  she 
liked,  when  the  only  usher  whom  a  sense  of  duty 
had  kept  faithful  to  his  post  came  up  with  two 
young  men.  Mrs.  Standish's  eye  brightened 
(for  when  were  not  young  men  welcome  at  a 
garden  party  ?),  and  she  greeted  the  first  comer 
with  considerable  effusion. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Urquhart  ?  I  am  glad 
to  see  you  back  again.  Mr.  Urquhart,  my 
daughter."  Then  turning  to  the  younger  man, 
she  received  him  pleasantly,  but  as  if  his  coming 
were  of  less  importance. 

Roger  Urquhart,  stepping  aside  to  make  room 
for  his  friend,  glanced  keenly  at  Hildegarde,  but 
in  a  guarded  manner,  and  as  if  that  short,  keen 
look  were  something  he  was  wont  to  give  every 
new  object  that  came  in  his  way.  He  said  in  a 
low,  pleasant  voice  :  "  It  is  strange,  Miss  Stan- 
dish,  how,  after  coming  back  from  Europe,  I  seem 
to  step  into  my  old  place." 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  n 

"You  have  been  in  Europe  for  some  time, 
then  ?  "  said  Hildegarde. 

"  Yes,  for  three  years  ;  and  yet  I  could  believe 
that  I  had  been  away  an  hour,  and  had  come 
back  again  to  Mrs.  Standish's  garden  party  of 
three  years  ago,  if  I  did  not  see  in  Miss  Standish 
the  proof  of  the  world's  improvement  since  I 
left." 

Hildegarde  smiled,  and  blushed  a  little ;  then 
her  mother,  speaking  to  her,  presented  George 
Holyoke,  and  Roger  Urquhart,  bowing,  retreated 
to  the  lawn. 

After  an  instant's  pause,  and  just  as  Hilde- 
garde opened  her  lips  to  speak,  George  Holyoke 
said  in  a  slightly  constrained  manner,  "  Have 
you  been  in  Europe,  Miss  Standish?" 

"  No,"  said  Hildegarde,  not  yet  wise  enough 
to  see  that  the  question  was  asked  in  the  hope 
of  starting  conversation,  and  not  for  its  own 
sake. 

There  was  another  short  pause,  during  which 
Mr.  Holyoke's  look  of  uneasiness  increased, 
before  he  said,  "  Do  you  not  wish  very  much 
to  go?" 

"  Yes,  certainly ;  it  must  give  one  so  much  to 
think  about  and  enjoy  in  the  recollection,"  said 
Hildegarde,  as  she  now  recognized  that  the 


12  SIMPLY  A  LOW-STORY. 

conversation  must  be  kept  up.  At  her  smile 
and  the  tone  of  interest  in  her  voice,  George 
Holyoke's  honest  and  intelligent  face  lit  up  imme- 
diately, and  he  said  in  a  very  different  manner: 
"  Yes  ;  and  did  you  ever  think  what  a  blessing 
such  a  stock  of  recollections  would  be  if  one 
were  sick  for  a  long  time,  or,  worse  than  that,  if 
one  became  blind  ?  " 

"  Good  afternoon  again,  Miss  Standish.  Have 
you  not  fulfilled  your  duties  here,  and  will  you 
not  give  me  the  pleasure  of  escorting  you  to  the 
lawn  ? "  said  a  voice  close  beside  George. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Hildegarde  to  the  new- 
comer ;  and,  taking  his  arm  and  saying,  "  Excuse 
me,  Mr.  Holyoke,"  she  went  out  upon  the  lawn. 
George  met  her  smile  with  a  bow,  and  a  look  in 
which  awkwardness  and  disgust  at  the  interrup- 
tion were  but  thinly  covered  with  a  proud  reserve, 
and  he,  too,  followed  into  the  open  air. 

Running  his  eye  over  the  groups  of  guests, 
he  walked  directly,  but  rather  slowly,  toward  a 
lady  sitting  in  a  garden-chair  with  a  gentleman 
standing  before  her,  his  back  toward  George. 
As  he  advanced,  he  glanced  furtively  at  the 
lady,  and  seemed  almost  to  catch  her  eye  ;  then, 
thinking  himself  too  far  off  to  salute  her,  he 
looked  awkwardly  at  the  ground.  When  he 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  13 

reached  her,  his  greeting  and  its  return  hardly 
interrupted  the  animated  flow  of  Mr.  Larkyns's 
conversation,  to  which  Miss  Ellison  was  listen- 
ing with  apparent  interest. 

"  Yes ;  you  know  the  whole  thing  was  really 
very  well  got  up,  looked  enough  like  an  English 
hunt  to  take  in  a  man  who  had 'never  been  in 
England,  and  had  seen  the  thing  only  in  those 
colored  fashion-plates.  Miss  Van  Snyder  —  you 
have  met  Miss  Van  Snyder  at  Newport,  I  think, 
Miss  Ellison  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  I  met  her  there  last  season.  You  have 
been  at  Newport,  of  course,  Mr.  Holyoke  ? "  said 
Clara. 

"  No,  I  wish  I  had,"  said  George,  shortly,  wish- 
ing far  more  that  he  had  some  excuse  for  the 
oversight. 

"  But  you  have  been  in  Switzerland  since  I  saw 
you  last,  and  can  tell  me  about  my  old  haunts." 

"  Ah,  I  wish  I  had  been  there,"  said  Mr. 
Larkyns.  "  My  ideal  of  real  bliss  since  my 
childhood  has  consisted  in  being  hauled  up  the 
Grampushorn  by  a  tow-rope  attached  to  sixteen 
athletic  guides,  that  I  might  attain  the  rarer 
bliss  of  being  let  down  again.  How  sweetly 
pretty  it  must  be  to  gaze  from  the  top  of  the 
Jiffelberg  on  the  sapphire  (I  think  that  is  the 


14  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

word)  depths  of  the  Jumbelsee  through  a  fog 
in  which  you  cannot  see  your  hand  before  your 
face!  Then,  when  death  comes  at  last,  how 
grand  to  be  engulfed  in  a  glacier,  and  after 
thirty  or  forty  years  to  be  turned  out  in  a  dis- 
tant valley  !  It  must  be  very  satisfactory  ;  you 
would  live  so  much  longer  in  the  memory  of 
your  relatives  and  friends  if  they  were  expecting 
you  to  turn  up  every  month  or  so." 

Miss  Ellison  laughed,  so  did  George  ;  but  he 
thought  it  hardly  fair  that  Larkyns,  without  hav- 
ing been  in  Switzerland,  should  be  able  to  talk 
about  it  so  much  better  than  himself. 

"And  speaking  of  mountains,"  continued  Lar- 
kyns, "  the  Green  Hills  are  especially  green  this 
afternoon.  Shall  we  stroll  where  we  can  see 
them?" 

Miss  Ellison  arose,  and  said  to  George,  who 
was  standing  irresolute,  "Won't  you  come  with 
us,  Mr.  Holyoke  ?  " 

"  No,  thanks,  I  should  be  in  the  way,"  said 
George. 

Miss  Ellison  looked  surprised  and  displeased. 
Harry  Larkyns  said,  with  a  laugh,  "  Not  in  the 
least,  old  fellow ;  "  and  the  two  went  off,  leaving 
George  very  angry  with  himself  and  with  the 
world  in  general.  They  had  taken  but  a  few 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  15 

steps  when  Harry  said,  "  He 's  a  good  and  clever 
fellow,  George  Holyoke,  but  he  has  very  queer 
manners  sometimes." 

"  He  is  a  very  intelligent  man,  and  often  a  very 
agreeable  one,"  said  Clara.  But,  unfortunately, 
her  answer  did  not  reach  George's  ears. 

Turning  from  where  he  stood/  George  strode 
rapidly  toward  a  more  wooded  part  of  the 
grounds ;  and,  rushing  on,  he  came  suddenly 
upon  another  couple.  The  lady  was  two  or 
three  years  older  than  himself,  —  twenty-six  or 
seven,  perhaps,  —  tall  and  slender,  with  a  face 
at  once  shrewd  and  intellectual.  She  was  in 
earnest  conversation  with  a  middle-aged  and 
somewhat  scraggy  man,  who  had  long,  bushy 
hair  and  peculiar  garments.  As  George  ap- 
proached she  looked  quickly  at  him,  greeted 
him'  by  his  first  name,  and,  turning  to  her  com- 
panion, almost  interrupted  him. 

"  I  must  crave  a  short  truce  now,  Professor 
Sticks.  Here  is  my  young  and  frivolous  cousin, 
who  knows  no  more  of  hereditary  pauperism 
than  he  does  of  many  other  important  matters." 
With  a  look  of  hatred,  mingled  with  contempt, 
for  the  frivolous  cousin,  and  a  few  indistinct 
mutterings,  Professor  Sticks  fled. 

"  What  is  the  matter  now,  George  ? "  said  Ann 


16  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

Brattle ;  "  for  behold  how  great  a  sacrifice  I  have 
made  for  you !  At  some  future  time  I  must 
listen  to  Professor  Sticks  full  two  hours  before 
I  can  regain  his  lost  favor.  If  that  unhappy 
face  of  yours  is  for  nothing,  I  shall  not  do  so 
much  for  you  the  next  time." 

"  It 's  a  weary  world,  Ann,"  said  George,  throw- 
ing himself  upon  the  grass  at  her  feet. 

"  True,  of  course  ;  but  you  look  as  if  you  had 
not  been  willing  to  take  that  celebrated  axiom 
upon  trust,  and  had  been  instituting  some  experi- 
ments to  find  out  for  yourself  if  it  were  true.'' 

"  How  on  earth  do  men  begin  to  talk  to  a  girl 
when  they  have  nothing  in  particular  to  say  to 
her  ?  "  said  George. 

"  I  am  not  a  man,  and  ought  to  ask  you 
the  question.  Come,  out  with  it ;  what  is  the 
matter?" 

"  Much  the  same  as  ever.  I  go  into  the  house 
and  am  presented  to  Miss  Hildegarde  Standish. 
I  do  not  know  anything  about  her,  and  her  face 
does  not  of  itself  suggest  any  particularly  inter- 
esting topic  of  conversation.  All  my  ideas  leave 
me  ;  then,  just  as  I  have  thought  of  something 
to  say,  that  fool  of  a  Cocker  comes  up  and  inter- 
rupts me,  and  takes  her  off  to  the  lawn.  Of 
course  she  could  not  help  going,  even  if  she  did 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  17 

not  want  to  go,  and  I  did  not  especially  care  to 
talk  to  her;  but  I  do  not  like  to  know  that  I  act 
like  a  greater  fool  than  Cocker  really  is." 

"  True,  it  is  not  pleasant,"  said  Ann  ;  "  and 
afterwards  —  for  that  is  not  your  only  trouble." 

"Then  I  went  up  to  Miss  Ellison,  whom  I  do 
know,  or  whom  at  least  I  think  I  know  ;  but  in 
the  first  place  she  was  sitting  down  and  there 
was  no  chair  for  me,  and  then  Harry  Larkyns 
was  rattling  on  to  her  about  Newport.  I  never 
had  a  chance  to  go  to  Newport,  and  that  fact 
may  free  me  from  all  moral  guilt  in  being  silent ; 
but  it  does  not  make  me  look  less  like  a  fool, 
staring  at  Miss  Ellison  and  saying  nothing. 
However,  Miss  Ellison  turned  the  conversation 
upon  Switzerland,  where  I  have  been  and  Harry 
has  not.  It  was  of  no  use,  though  ;  he  beat  me 
on  my  own  ground.  Harry,  now,  is  not  a  fool, — 
sometimes  I  wish  he  was  ;  as  it  is,  I  can't  look 
down  upon  him  to  my  own  satisfaction.  At  last, 
to  make  matters  better,  I  left  them  with  a  very 
rude  speech,  made  out  of  sheer  awkwardness." 

"You  don't  do  justice  to  yourself  at  all, 
George,"  said  his  cousin.  "  Clara  Ellison  is  a 
very  intelligent  girl,  and  there  is  a  great  deal 
of  stuff  in  Hildegarde  Standish,  or  I  am  much 
mistaken.  You  can  talk  about  things  that  will 


1 8  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

interest  them  more  than  Newport  or  the  last 
gossip  of  society.  You  are  a  cleverer  fellow 
than  Harry  Larkyns  or  even  than  Cocker." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  compliment  ;  but  I  can 
hardly  apostrophize  a  girl  to  whom  I  have  just 
been  introduced,  with,  '  Do  you  not  think,  Miss 
Jones,  that  Emerson's  ideas  in  his  Essay  on 
Art  are  fundamentally  incorrect?'  or,  'What  is 
your  opinion  of  Grote's  theory  of  the  Unity  of 
the  Homeric  poems  ? '  I  cannot  interrupt  a 
conversation,  even  if  it  is  on  Newport  hunting, 
with  such  wisdom  as  that.  Miss  Standish  would 
think  me  a  lunatic,  and  Miss  Ellison  an  ass." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  Professor  Sticks 
begins  in  that  way ;  and  I  saw  Miss  Ellison 
listening  to  him,  with  great  interest,  for  three 
quarters  of  an  hour  at  Mrs.  Male's.  Seriously, 
George,  you  are  desperately  shy  with  women, — 
I  think  you  are  rather  shy  even  with  men  ;  and 
you  must  get  over  it." 

"  How,  my  fair  cousin  ?  " 

"  How  ?  Well,  take  some  intelligent  girl.  You 
must  not  take  me  ;  I  am  too  near  a  relative, 
besides  being  too  old.  Cultivate  her  acquaint- 
ance, and  get  to  know  her;  see  how  her  mind 
works ;  see  the  '  wheels  go  wound  ; '  and  you  will 
be  cured." 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  19 

"  And  whom  would  you  suggest  as  the  corpus 
vile?" 

"  That  is  of  no  consequence ;  only  you  must 
not  begin  by  being  in  love  with  her.  You  may 
fall  in  love  with  her  afterwards  if  you  choose  to. 
And  now  that  your  plaint  is  ended,  and  the  balm 
applied,  you  may  take  me  to  the  house ;  there 
leave  me,  and  seek  relief  at  the  hands  of  some 
fair  maiden,  if  you  like." 

As  they  walked  toward  the  house,  Ann  said, 
"  You  go  to  the  sea-shore  to-morrow,  do  you 
not  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  Roger  and  I  have  decided  to  fish,  and 
sail,  and  loaf  away  the  summer  at  Stapleton, — 
a  village  unknown  to  fame,  except  that  the  Stan- 
dishes  have  a  place  there.  It  is  the  last  long 
summer  holiday  that  I  shall  ever  have  ;  and  I  am 
going  to  enjoy  it  as  I  please,  without  being  tied 
down  by  fashion  to  fritter  it  away  as  I  do  not 
please." 

Leaving  his  cousin  at  the  house,  George  fell 
in  with,  rather  than  selected,  a  young  lady  whom 
he  did  not  like  especially,  but  who  had  one  great 
gift,  —  an  unlimited  supply  of  words.  Spared 
all  anxiety,  he  soon  talked  as  well  as  his  com- 
panion would  let  him  ;  and  (for  the  lady  was 
somewhat  given  to  flirtation)  drifted  away  to  a 


20  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

well-sheltered  spot,  where  the  wise  forethought 
of  Mrs.  Standish  had  put  two  garden-chairs. 
Sitting  there,  talking  with  a  pretty  and  good- 
natured  girl,  George's  manner,  naturally  very 
respectful  to  women,  unconsciously  had  become 
devoted,  and  his  commonplace  talk  seemed  most 
intimate  and  confidential,  when  there  was  a 
rustling  in  the  bushes,  and  Clara  Ellison  and 
Harry  Larkyns  came  upon  them,  talking  and 
laughing.  They  passed  through  the  opening  in 
the  branches  so  close  to  George  and  Miss  Anstey 
that  the  former  had  to  rise,  which  he  did,  feel- 
ing embarrassed,  and  therefore  looking  offended. 
To  have  been  found  by  Miss  Anstey  talking  with 
Miss  Ellison  would  have  been  very  well ;  but  it 
was  far  otherwise  to  be  found  by  Miss  Ellison  in 
that  place  talking  to  Miss  Anstey  ;  and  George's 
bow  to  Clara  had  in  it  little  of  pleasure  or  amia- 
bility. Miss  Anstey,  however,  suffered  most 
from  the  circumstance  ;  and,  finding  George 
suddenly  become  distraught  and  taciturn,  she 
discovered  that  her  mother  was  waiting  for  her, 
and  anxious  to  go  home.  Not  caring  to  try  his 
luck  again,  George  followed  her  example. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  21 


II. 


the  following  afternoon  George  Holyoke 
and  Roger  Urquhart  took  the  train  for 
Stapleton.  After  they  had  read  the  evening 
papers,  and  thereby,  without  any  compensation, 
rendered  the  taste  of  those  of  the  next  morning 
utterly  insipid,  George  turned  to  Roger. 

"  How  did  you  enjoy  yourself  yesterday  at 
Mrs.  Standish's?" 

"  More  than  I  generally  do.  A  crowd  of  peo- 
ple is  often  amusing  for  a  change,  and  people 
seldom  have  a  better  chance  to  be  amusing  than 
at  a  garden  party.  The  men  look  rather  more 
idiotic  than  usual,  but  the  women  shine  out  in 
all  their  glory." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"Why,  they  have  a  much  better  chance  to 
show  off  their  own  characteristic  and  individual 
arts  and  wiles  than  at  an  evening  party ;  there 
is  less  formality,  and  the  rules  of  the  game  are 
more  lax.  At  a  ball,  Miss  Jones,  Miss  Brown, 


22  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

and  Miss  Robinson  are  forced  by  fashion  to 
show  themselves  off,  to  exhibit  themselves,  in 
almost  exactly  the  same  way,  and  it  is  monoto- 
nous to  look  from  one  to  the  other ;  but  take 
some  girl  with  you,  so  that  you  may  not  be 
thought  a  spy,  let  her  do  all  the  talking,  and 
then  go  through  the  by-ways  of  a  garden  party, 
and  you  will  see  that  there  is  a  certain  amount 
of  individuality  in  women  after  all,  my  dear  fel- 
low. Miss  Jones  drags  her  captive  up  and  down, 
before  the  world  to  show  how  tame  and  well- 
broken  the  animal  is.  Miss  Brown  lives  upon 
the  words  that  fall  from  dear  Mr.  Tompkins's 
lips  ;  it  is  true  that  she  is  incapable  of  under- 
standing a  word  that  is  worth  understanding, 
but  what  does  that  matter  ?  Tompkins  does  n't 
know  it.  Miss  Robinson  admits  her  victim  to 
the  Eleusinian  mysteries  in  some  dark  grove 
where  the  rites  are 

'  Deadly  to  hear  and  deadly  to  tell,  — 
Jesu  Maria,  shield  us  well ! ' 

But  you  look  as  if  you  did  not  think  the  rites  so 
very  deadly  after  all." 

"  Perhaps,  and  perhaps  not,"  said  George ; 
"but  I  don't  agree  with  you  that  women  go  into 
society  merely  for  display." 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  23 

"  Don't  they  ?  Now  Miss  Martineau,  who  is 
supposed  to  be  quite  as  sensible  as  most  of  her 
sex,  says  they  do.  Slie  thought  that  men  were 
different ;  but  then  she  wanted  to  be  a  man  and 
could  n't,  therefore  she  is  not  a  fair  judge  on 
that  point." 

"  I  never  heard  that  Miss  Martineau  was  par- 
ticularly successful  as  a  display,  and  I  doubt 
whether  she  knew  much  more  of  women  than 
she  did  of  men." 

"  Well,  if  you  will  not  believe  Miss  Marti- 
neau, produce  your  woman  who  thinks  of  any- 
thing but  display  in  society,  —  or  anywhere  else, 
for  the  matter  of  that,"  he  added  under  his 
breath. 

George  paused  a  moment ;  he  wished  to  over- 
whelm his  friend  and  stop  his  mouth  with  some 
convincing  example.  He  thought  of  Mrs.  Urqu- 
hart,  Roger's  mother,  but  it  was  hardly  fair  to 
name  her,  and,  besides,  she  did  not  go  into  so- 
ciety ;  then  of  Ann  Brattle,  but  she  was  his  own 
cousin,  and  he  was  too  honest  to  protect  himself 
by  hiding  behind  his  relatives  and  trusting  that 
Roger's  politeness  would  prevent  him  from  strik- 
ing them. 

"  You  have  so  many  good  instances  that  it  is 
hard  to  choose,  I  suppose,"  said  Roger. 


24  >7.w/,  V  -i   LOVE-STORY. 

"Take  Miss  Hildegarde  Standish,  for  exam- 
ple," said  George,  almost  at  random. 

"  Miss  Hildegarde  Standish  !  You  might  have 
done  better  than  that.  Ah,  very  good.  I  see 
you  mean  to  make  the  point  that  Miss  Hilde- 
garde Standish  does  not  think  at  all,  —  or  per- 
haps that  she  sometimes  thinks  of  the  dolls  she 
has  had  to  leave  and  to  whom  she  hopes  soon  to 
return  ;  but  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  are  wrong 
there.  I  did  not  say  that  women  thought  of  dis- 
play all  the  time  while  in  society,  but  merely 
that  they  thought  of  nothing  else.  Now  Miss 
Standish,  in  spite  of  that  vacuity  of  manner 
which  I  grant  you  is  apparently  very  complete, 
does  think  what  effect  she  is  producing.  Oh, 
simplicity  is  very  nearly  the  most  artful  dodge 
of  all,  my  dear  boy  !  But  perhaps  you  are  smit- 
ten with  the  charms  of  the  fair  one  ;  if  so,  I  am 
sorry  to  shatter  your  illusions." 

"  I  am  not  smitten,  nor  are  my  illusions,  as 
you  so  kindly  call  them,  shattered  ;  but,  Roger, 
you  scare  me  sometimes.  If  you  talk  of  people 
in  this  way,  what  security  have  I  that  you  do 
not  say  the  same  thing  of  me  behind  my  back, — 
or  think  it,  if  you  are  too  honorable  to  speak  ? " 

"  Because,  George,"  said  Roger,  his  voice  and 
whole  manner  changing  completely, —  "because 


SIMPLY  A    LOVE-STOHY.  25 

you  know  that  I  think  very  differently  of  you,  be- 
cause you  are  my  friend  as  I  hope  I  am  yours, 
and  because  I  love  you,  George,  old  boy." 

George  smiled  on  Roger  Urquhart  as  men 
rarely  smile  on  one  another,  and  knew  that 
Roger  spoke  the  truth,  though  he  could  not  see 
the  logic  of  his  friend's  vindication. 

The  country  through  which  they  were  travel- 
ling had  been  utterly  uninteresting,  but  now  it 
suddenly  changed.  Most  of  us  had  rather  look 
upon  a  face  plain  or  even  ugly,  if  it  has  strong 
character  and  individuality,  than  upon  mere 
commonplace  prettiness ;  and  so,  far  more  in 
Nature,  where  unbroken  monotony  and  grim 
ugliness  both  have  a  beauty  in  themselves,  we 
are  drawn  to  look  upon  those  spots  which  have 
a  marked  character  of  their  own.  The  gnarled 
oak  is  gnarled,  no  power  can  make  it  smooth 
and  straight  again,  or  even  change  the  shape 
of  its  grotesque  limbs  ;  the  fair  and  slender  sap- 
ling can  be  trained  and  twisted  as  you  will.  So 
the  fertile  meadow  is  this  year  green  with  grass, 
next  year  yellow  with  the  waving  grain,  and  the 
year  after  brown,  as  the  ploughed  ground  lies 
fallow ;  yet  twenty  years,  and  you  may  cover  it 
with  a  forest,  and  yet  twelve  months  more,  and 
you  may  pasture  your  cattle  again  on  the  same 


26  MM  PLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

spot.  But  no  power  of  man  can  change  the  dark 
green  of  the  salt  marshes,  the  light  green  of  the 
feathery  beach-grass,  the  pale  yellow  of  the  sand- 
hills as  the  sun  shines  on  them,  or  the  blue  sea 
that  washes  their  feet. 

So  lay  the  land  and  sea  to  the  northward  on 
their  left,  but  on  the  right  a  country  gently  roll- 
ing was  covered  with  scrubby  oaks  and  pitch- 
pines,  the  tallest  hardly  more  than  twenty  feet 
high.  The  houses  were  but  few ;  their  cleanli- 
ness and  fresh  white  paint  deprived  them  of  the 
picturesqueness  that  a  New  England  farmhouse 
possesses,  with  its  shingles  painted  gray  and 
brown  by  the  snows  of  fifty  winters,  stained 
here  and  there  with  the  primeval  red.  The 
roads  were  deep  in  sand,  and  an  occasional  field, 
breaking  the  monotony  of  the  low  forest,  bore 
grass  hardly  good  enough  for  pasturage.  At 
intervals  of  three  or  four  miles  the  train  would 
stop  at  a  small  village  of  these  same  neat  houses, 
whose  owners  had  no  visible  means  of  support, 
though  it  was  evident  that  those  of  the  passen- 
gers who  left  or  entered  the  train  had  never 
wanted  for  food,  clothing,  or  shelter.  They 
were  of  the  pure  Yankee  type,  but  not  of  the 
New  Hampshire  variety ;  for  the  men  were 
browner  and  hardier  from  their  rough  sea-life, 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  27 

and  more  intelligent  and  liberal  from  their  inter- 
course with  men  of  all  pursuits  from  all  parts  of 
the  world.  There  was  less  difference  in  the 
women  ;  but  even  they  looked  somewhat  sturdier 
than  their  New  Hampshire  kindred,  and  their 
voices  were  not  quite  so  harsh  and  nasal. 

It  was  for  the  third  or  fourth  of  these  vil- 
lages that  Roger  and  George  were  bound.  Its 
name  was  called,  and  the  two  alighted.  Roger 
went  after  the  driver  who  was  to  take  them 
several  miles  to  a  hotel  where  they  had  engaged 
rooms,  and  George  was  standing  looking  at  the 
train,  when  a  woman  came  out  upon  the  front 
steps  of  the  car  he  had  just  left.  As  her  foot 
touched  the  platform  of  the  station,  the  train 
started  and  she  was  tripped  and  thrown  back 
against  the  corner  of  the  car,  and  would  have 
dropped  under  the  wheels  of  the  moving  train, 
had  not  George  seized  her  and  dragged  her  up 
in  safety,  his  hand,  as  he  did  so,  being  bruised 
and  torn  by  a  projecting  part  of  the  car. 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you,"  said  the 
young  woman,  into  whose  face  the  color  came 
back  slowly. 

"There  is  nothing  to  thank  me  for,"  said 
George.  "  I  ran  no  risk." 

"But    I   did,"  said  the  girl,  glancing  instinc- 


28  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

lively,  with  a  shudder,  at  the  rails;  "and  oh, 
you  have  hurt  your  hand ! "  seeing  the  back  of 
George's  hand  covered  with  blood. 

"  It 's  nothing  ;  a  mere  scratch  from  the  car  as 
it  went  by,"  said  George,  taking  out  his  hand- 
kerchief, and  trying  with  his  left  hand  to  bind  it 
around  his  right. 

The  attempt  was  a  failure,  and  the  girl  said, 
"  I  will  do  it  for  you,  if  you  will  let  me." 

George  thought  himself  entitled  to  this  reward 
for  his  services,  and  held  out  his  hand.  As  he 
did  so,  he  looked  for  the  first  time  full  in  her 
face ;  it  was  dusk,  but  he  could  see  that  she  was 
young  and  pretty,  and  he  knew  that  her  voice 
was  not  like  those  which  had  pierced  and  rent 
his  ear  while  he  was  in  the  car. 

"  George,"  called  Roger's  voice  from  the  other 
side  of  the  station,  "aren't  you  coming?  We 
ought  to  be  off." 

"  You  're  a  goin'  over  with  me,  Mary,"  said 
an  old  man,  looking  somewhat  like  a  satyr  of 
advanced  age,  shambling  along  the  platform  to 
where  George  stood,  and  speaking  to  the  girl. 
The  operation  was  completed  by  this  time,  and 
George  raised  his  hat  as  he  turned  to  go. 

"  I  must  say  again  that  I  am  very  grateful  to 
you,"  said  Mary,  speaking  slowly  and  distinctly, 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  29 

and  in  such  a  way  that  George  stopped  perforce, 
"  for  having  saved  my  life." 

As  George  walked  away  toward  Roger,  he 
looked  well  pleased,  and  he  met  and  answered 
his  friend's  inquiries  with  a  smile. 

"I  trust  she  was  pretty,"  said  Roger. 

"  Yes,  I  think  she  was,"  George  admitted. 

"  What  a  piece  of  luck  for  you,  old  boy,"  said 
Roger  as  they  drove  along,  —  "  for  a  man  of  your 
romantic  turn  of  mind ;  such  a  chance  for  a 
poem,  or  for  what  they  call  a  sketch  !  The  fact 
that  you  don't  know  her  name  or  anything  about 
her,  and  that  the  story  has  no  particular  ending, 
will  impart  to  it  that  vagueness  which  is  so 
essential." 

The  two  men  were  driven  through  several 
miles  of  low  woods  like  those  they  had  already 
seen.  There  were  no  houses,  the  country  looked 
desolate,  and  both  George  and  Roger  had  begun 
to  doubt  their  wisdom  in  choosing  Stapleton  as 
their  summer  headquarters,  when  the  wagon 
came  clear  of  the  woods,  and  they  saw  the 
moon,  just  risen,  shining  across  a  small  land- 
locked bay.  The  lights  of  the  village  in  front 
of  them  showed  that  it  lay  on  one  side  of  this 
bay,  while  on  a  bluff  half  a  mile  off  and  across 
the  water  was  a  large  house  which  they  rightly 


30  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

judged  to  belong  to  Mr.  Standish.  Further 
down,  and  opposite  the  lower  end  of  the  village, 
the  bay  widened,  and  the  moon,  just  clear  of  the 
trees  on  the  further  shore,  leaving  a  broad  wake 
in  the  rippling  water,  showed  that  the  harbor 
was  as  free  from  ocean  swell  as  a  mountain  lake, 
while  the  open  sea,  visible  over  a  low  beach  at 
the  entrance  of  the  bay,  proved  that  it  was  part 
of  the  very  ocean  after  all. 

Their  wagon  drove  up  to  the  hotel  where  they 
had  engaged  rooms.  Its  aspect  was  not  pre- 
possessing. It  was  small,  built  close  to  the 
road,  without  any  beauty  or  ornament,  and  there 
seemed  to  be  no  very  good  reason  why  it  should 
have  attracted  to  itself  so  many  guests.  Yet 
there  they  were,  old  and  young,  with  more  chil- 
dren than  the  bounty  of  nature  usually  allows, 
all  having  that  appearance  of  being  at  home,  and 
acquainted  with  each  other,  which  twenty-four 
hours'  stay  in  a  strange  place  will  often  give,  yet 
which  is  so  discouraging  to  later  comers.  To 
George  and  Roger,  however,  the  desire  of  know- 
ing these  people  was  but  a  slight  temptation. 
They  had  that  miscellaneous  appearance  com- 
mon at  third-class  watering-places ;  they  were 
laughing  and  talking  ;  the  children  rushing 
about  the  piazzas,  shouting,  screaming,  and 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  31 

crying.  Altogether,  the  two  young  men  felt 
anything  but  enthusiastic  over  the  prospect  of 
passing  two  months  in  the  place. 

The  landlord  came  forward  ;  he  had  chosen 
his  trade  for  the  time-honored  reason  that  he 
was  fit  for  nothing  else.  None  of  the  wonted 
pride  of  the  haughty  hotel  clerk  was  his  ;  with 
shuffling  gait  and  nervous  hands  he  came  to  the 
wagon. 

"  I  am  Mr.  Urquhart,"  said  Roger,  as  soon  as  he 
had  got  out.  "  Will  you  show  us  our  rooms  ?  " 

"  Your  rooms !  "  said  the  man,  endeavoring 
to  cloak  his  guilty  conscience  with  something 
which  he  meant  for  independence,  and  which 
sounded  like  an  attempt  at  impudence. 

"  Yes,  our  rooms,"  Roger  answered  ironically; 
for  the  whole  scene  was  fast  exasperating  him. 
"  You  are  Mr.  Jenkins,  I  believe,  who  answered 
a  letter  which  I  wrote  to  Stapleton." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  man,  independence  and 
impudence  both  vanishing,  and  leaving  his  guilt 
very  ill-concealed.  "John,  show  the  gentlemen 
to  Twenty-seven." 

The  room,  of  course,  was  of  a  kind  very  dif- 
ferent from  what  Roger  had  ordered  and  Mr. 
Jenkins  had  promised.  Breaking  away  from 
John,  Roger  and  George  lost  their  way,  went 


32  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

down  the  back  stairs,  and  thereby  cut  off  the 
flight  of  Mr.  Jenkins  to  the  kitchen  or  some 
other  place  of  refuge.  Roger  was  in  a  towering 
passion,  and  put  to  the  unhappy  landlord  the 
usual  question,  "  What  do  you  mean  by  it  ? " 

Had  Mr.  Jenkins  told  the  whole  truth,  he 
would  have  acknowledged  that  he  had  been  over- 
persuaded  on  the  previous  Monday  by  Mr. 
Slusher  into  letting  that  gentleman  have  the 
rooms  which  he  had  promised  to  George  and 
Roger.  As  it  was,  he  said  that  he  had  not 
expected  Mr.  Urquhart  so  soon.  And  this  was 
partly  true ;  for  he  had  so  trained  his  expecta- 
tions to  wait  upon  his  hopes,  that  he  had  be- 
lieved, after  his  fashion,  that  sickness  or  an 
earthquake  would  be  sent  by  Providence  to  post- 
pone his  guests'  arrival. 

"  Did  you  not  write  that  the  rooms  would  be 
ready  on  the  twentieth  ?  "  said  Roger. 

If  Mr.  Jenkins  had  not  seen  his  own  letter  in 
Roger's  hand,  he  would  have  prevaricated  again  ; 
as  it  was,  his  invention  was  at  a  loss,  and  he  told 
the  truth. 

"  The  rooms  are  ours,  and  we  must  have 
them,"  said  Roger. 

Mr.  Jenkins  hesitated.  "I  —  I  could  get  you 
a  room,  perhaps,  at  Mis'  Rogers's  to-night,  and 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  33 

to-morrow  I  will  try  and  fix  it  somehow,"  said 
the  unhappy  landlord,  knowing  very  well  that 
his  only  hope  of  fixing  it  lay  in  another  inter- 
position of  Providence  which  should  drown  the 
whole  Slusher  family  at  their  sea-bath  on  the 
following  morning. 

"  D — n  Miss  Rogers,"  said  Urquhart. 

"  We  can't  do  worse  if  we  go  there,"  broke  in 
George  ;  "  and  we  may  do  better." 

The  landlord  smiled  on  George  as  a  bene- 
factor ;  and  after  some  protestation  from  Roger 
it  was  agreed  that  the  two  young  men  should 
lodge  in  a  neighboring  house  for  the  night. 

Thither  they  went  after  a  supper  which  cor- 
responded admirably  with  the  accommodations 
of  No.  27  ;  Roger  in  a  bad  humor  with  all  the 
world  but  his  friend. 

"  Easy,  now,"  said  George,  as  they  went  up  a 
narrow  brick  walk  which  led  from  the  street 
to  a  large  white  house.  "  Don't  you  know  that 
Mrs.  Rogers  takes  us  in  as  a  favor  ?  If  you  go 
on  in  this  way,  her  free  Yankee  spirit  will  make 
her  turn  us  out  of  doors." 

"  I  believe,  George,"  said  his  companion,  "  that 
you  would  put  up  with  anything;  your  Euro- 
pean experience  ought  to  have  taught  you  better 
than  that." 

3 


34  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  My  American  experience  has  taught  me 
that  my  European  experience  is  good  for  noth- 
ing in  dealing  with  New  Englanders.  Let  me 
talk  to  Mrs.  Rogers,  whom,  by  the  way,  you 
persist  in  making  out  a  spinster." 

Accordingly,  when  a  thin,  nervous,  neatly 
dressed  woman  opened  the  door,  George  greeted 
her  with  distinguished  politeness.  The  two 
young  men  were  shown  to  their  room,  Mrs. 
Rogers  reiterating,  as  they  went  upstairs,  that 
she  had  known  of  their  coming  but  an  hour 
before,  and  so  had  been  unable  to  do  various 
and  sundry  things  for  her  guests'  comfort.  Left 
to  themselves,  they  were  glad  to  go  to  bed. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 


35 


III. 

THE  sun  rose  clear  the  next  morning,  and 
Roger,  who  was  the  earlier  riser,  went  out, 
leaving  George  alone.  The  room  which  their 
hostess  had  given  them  certainly  was  an  im- 
provement upon  No.  27.  It  was  large  and  ex- 
quisitely clean,  the  floor  bare,  without  a  speck 
of  dust,  the  beds  high  and  comfortable,  occupying 
a  middle  station  in  the  course  of  development 
between  the  ancient  four-poster  and  the  modern 
bedstead.  There  were  white  cotton  shades  in 
the  windows,  rolled  half-way  up  and  pinned,  —  for 
there  were  no  cords,  —  and  for  ornament,  fringed 
curtains  of  rather  better  material,  with  a  fringed 
valance  above  the  window-frame.  These  win- 
dows looked  out  on  the  bay  and  across  it  to  the 
house  of  Mr.  Standish  on  the  opposite  shore ;  to 
the  right,  one  could  see  the  ocean  over  the  sand- 
bar which  protected  the  harbor ;  to  the  left,  the 
bay  ran  far  up  into  the  land,  narrow,  with  trees 
growing  near  the  water's  edge,  resembling  a 


36  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

river,  except  where  the  thatch  and  the  beach- 
grass  showed  that  the  water  was  salt.  George 
had  taken  in  all  this  and  was  dressing  lazily, 
when  Roger  returned. 

"I  've  hit  it,"  he  said,  as  he  came  in. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  said  George.  "Judging 
from  what  I  can  see  from  the  windows,  this  is 
not  such  a  bad  place  after  all."  The  meaning 
of  the  last  remark  was  this :  George  thought  that 
his  friend  wished  to  leave  Stapleton  at  once, 
a  wish  which  he,  through  natural  laziness  and 
easy-going  content,  did  not  share. 

"  Wait  till  I  tell  you  what  I  have  seen,"  replied 
Roger.  "  I  have  been  to  the  Squibnocket  Hotel, 
and  it  is  positively  worse  than  I  had  imagined. 
In  the  house  the  women  were  banging  upon  a 
broken-winded  piano  ;  out  of  it  the  men  at  this 
hour  of  the  morning  were  playing  euchre  with 
an  antediluvian  pack  of  cards  ;  both  indoors  and 
out  of  doors  the  children  were  exercising  their 
lungs  in  a  way  which  must  be  gratifying  to 
parents  of  a  consumptive  tendency.  Now,  to 
use  one  of  the  few  Scriptural  comparisons  that 
I  have  on  hand,  if  they  do  these  things  in  the 
green  leaf,  that  is,  at  nine  in  the  morning,  what 
will  they  do  in  the  dry,  which  may  be  repre- 
sented by  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening?  I  once 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  37 

passed  a  week  in  such  a  place  in  order  to  study 
human  nature.  I  would  rather  know  as  little  of 
it  as  Saint  Simeon  Stylites,  than  live  that  week 
over  again.  And,  by  the  way,  the  breakfast 
hour  being  long  past,  you  must  wait  until  dinner 
for  something  to  eat." 

"  Did  you  hear  anything  about  the  shooting 
and  fishing  ?"  said  George,  not  yet  giving  in. 

"You  have  seen  one  side  of  the  shield,  now 
look  on  the  other.  I  met  an  ancient  mariner, 
who  told  me  that  the  fishing  was  excellent,  good 
trout-fishing,  passable  blue-fishing,  that  there 
was  fair  shooting,  and  sailing  in  every  way  ad- 
mirable. As  I  walked  back  from  the  hotel  I  was 
reflecting  that  good  and  evil  always  are  mixed 
in  some  such  way  in  this  world,  when,  as  I 
came  through  the  entry  and  upstairs,  a  Heaven- 
sent inspiration  filled  me.  The  door  of  the 
kitchen  —  if  it  be  not  impious  to  call  such  a  place 
a  kitchen  —  was  open,  and  I  could  see  a  breakfast 
laid  out  for  Mr.  Rogers,  who  has  returned  from 
somewhere  or  other.  Everything  clean  and 
neat,  and  so  appetizing  that,  upon  my  word,  I 
forgot  I  had  breakfasted  at  the  Squibnocket. 
To  crown  all,  Mr.  Rogers  was  waited  upon  by 
a  maiden  of  surpassing  beauty,  who  is,  I  take 
it,  the  daughter  of  the  house.  Now,  I  propose 


38  SIMPLY  A   LOVK-XTORY. 

that  we  shall  both  board  and  lodge  with  Madame 
Rogers,  and  leave  Mr.  Jenkins  to  his  own 
devices." 

"  I  am  very  much  mistaken  if  Mrs.  Rogers  will 
agree  to  your  proposal.  She  took  us  in  only 
for  the  night,  and  I  should  judge  that  they  are 
too  well  off  to  keep  us." 

"  You  do  not  know  my  powers  of  persuasion, 
or  what  desperation  will  do  for  a  man  naturally 
modest.  I  am  going  to  her  now." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Roger,  if  you  want  to 
stay  here, —  and  I  agree  that  we  can't  do  anything 
better,  —  don't  talk  to  our  landlady  in  that  way  ; 
don't  imagine  that  she  is  a  Frenchwoman.  She 
is  a  Yankee,  and  your  acquaintance  with  Yan- 
kees is  limited." 

"  She  is  a  woman,  and  my  acquaintance  with 
women  is  considerable.  Come  on,  if  you  want  a 
lesson  in  fascination." 

George  followed  Roger  downstairs,  hoping 
that  he  should  be  able  to  represent  in  Mrs. 
Rogers's  eyes  enough  sobriety  to  make  up  for 
his  friend's  frivolity.  As  luck  would  have  it, 
they  met  their  hostess  in  the  entry.  She  was  a 
thin,  pale  woman,  over  whom  anxiety  and  sad- 
ness ruled  with  the  strength  of  moral  duties,  and 
who  considered  pleasure  a  sin  to  be  expiated  by  . 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  39 

long  and  bitter  penance.  Making  her  a  low  bow, 
to  which  she  paid  scarcely  any  attention,  Roger 
began  in  a  solemn  voice,  "  Do  you  know,  Mrs. 
Rogers,  from  what  a  fate  you  saved  us  last 
night  ?  " 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean,  sir  ? "  said  Mrs. 
Rogers,  startled  out  of  her  indifference. 

"That  man  at  the  hotel,  Jenkins,"  continued 
Roger,  "  wished  to  put  us  into  a  miserable  room, 
where  I  verily  believe  we  should  have  been 
stifled,  the  air  was  so  close  ;  so  that  when  we 
saw  your  delightful  chamber  upstairs,  I  assure 
you  it  seemed  like  Paradise  to  us,  ma'am." 

"  Well,  I  'm  glad  it  suited  you  ;  I  'm  sure  you 
were  welcome  to  it,"  said  Mrs.  Rogers,  sternly 
putting  away  from  her  the  temptation  to  be 
pleased. 

"  We  are  so  thankful  to  you  for  your  kindness 
in  welcoming  us  to  your  house,"  said  Roger, 
"  that  we  are  going  to  ask  you  to  go  a  step  far- 
ther and  welcome  us  to  your  table.  I  assure 
you,"  he  hurried  on,  seeing  signs  of  opposition 
on  his  hostess'  part,  "  that  your  kind  heart  would 
have  taken  pity  on  me  if  you  had  seen  the 
breakfast  which  that  sinner  Jenkins  gave  me 
this  morning.  When  I  saw  Mr.  Rogers's  break- 
fast as  I  came  back,  my  mouth  fairly  watered." 


40  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  come  in  and  get  some  ? 
That  Jenkins  always  was  a  mis'able  provider," 
said  Mrs.  Rogers,  her  temptation  now  getting  the 
better  of  her,  and  the  corners  of  her  mouth  rising 
perceptibly;  then,  firmly,  "but  we  don't  take 
boarders,  nor  lodgers  neither,  only  for  a  night 
just  to  accommodate." 

"But  we  aren't  like  other  boarders;  we  are 
two  very  quiet  young  men.  We  have  been  hard 
at  work,  and  we  have  come  down  here  to  rest 
before  we  go  to  work  again.  We  need  good  food 
and  a  quiet  place  just  like  this,  and  we  could  n't 
live  at  the  hotel.  You  would  n't  like  to  have 
our  deaths  lie  at  your  door,  would  you,  now?" 
said  Roger,  appealingly. 

"  I  have  seen  young  met) !  "  said  the  landlady, 
her  eyes  sparkling  just  a  little  at  this  unwonted 
exercise  of  her  wit. 

"  Seriously,"  said  George,  "  if  you  could  possi- 
bly take  us  in,  we  should  be  very  much  obliged 
to  you  if  you  would.  I  do  not  think  that  we 
should  trouble  you  very  much." 

"I  couldn't  get  two  sets  of  meals,"  said  Mrs. 
Rogers  thoughtfully,  turning  to  him. 

George  knew  that  their  cause  was  almost  won. 
"  We  could  make  your  hours  suit  us,  I  think," 
he  said;  "and  if  we  were  very  late  now  and  then 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  41 

we  should  have  to  go  to  the  hotel,  I  suppose," 
he  added  artfully. 

"  You  won't  get  much  by  going  there,"  said 
Mrs.  Rogers.  '  Well,  I  '11  think  about  it,  and  let 
you  know  to-night.  You  can't  take  your  meals 
here  to-day,  for  I  have  n't  got  anything  ready 
for  you.  No,  I  have  n't,  young  man,"  sharply  to 
Roger,  who  was  opening  his  mouth  to  protest. 
"  I  '11  talk  with  my  husband,  and  I  can  let  you 
know  to-night."  Thus  speaking,  Mrs.  Rogers 
departed,  and  the  two  young  men  went  out. 

Captain  Shearjashub  Rogers  had  been  a  suc- 
cessful whaler,  and  had  laid  up  a  competence ; 
but  he  had  invested  his  earnings  in  coasting- 
schooners,  and,  as  the  coasting-trade  was  very 
dull,  money  was  -not  now  so  plentiful  as  it  had 
been  just  after  the  war.  It  was  this  fact  that 
had  induced  Mrs.  Rogers  to  take  in  the  two 
young  men  for  the  night,  and  later  to  admit  the 
bare  possibility  of  receiving  them  as  boarders. 
A  family  council  was  held  in  the  afternoon,  and 
Roger,  who  waited  upon  his  hostess  to  learn  its 
result,  reported  to  George  that  the  decision  was 
favorable.  "  She  says  that  we  may  keep  that 
room,  that  she  will  give  us  another,  and  that  we 
may  take  our  meals  with  them  if  we  can  put  up 
with  what  she  gives  us." 


42  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

It  was  one  of  the  longest  days  of  the  year, 
and,  after  an  early  supper  at  the  Squibnocket 
House,  George  proposed  a  stroll  in  the  woods 
which  shut  in  the  village  of  Stapleton  on  all 
sides  except  toward  the  water. 

"  No,"  said  Roger,  "  I  am  going  to  our  abode 
to  view  the  glorious  results  of  my  audacious 
diplomacy ;  also,  I  may  glance  about  casually 
and  see  if  the  charming  Miss  Rogers  be  as 
beautiful  as  I  first  took  her  to  be." 

Accordingly  George  went  alone,  and  wan- 
dered from  one  wood  road  into  another,  where 
the  tracks  were  just  wide  enough  for  a  cart, 
here  sandy,  and  there  covered  with  leaves  or 
pine  needles,  the  branches  of  oaks  or  pitch-pines 
often  meeting  so  low  that  a  covered  wagon  could 
scarcely  pass  through.  He  did  not  see  that  one 
path  resembled  another  so  exactly,  that  to  re- 
trace his  steps  was  impossible.  As  he  strolled 
along,  his  thoughts  went  back  to  the  garden 
party,  and — for  he  was  given  to  asking  himself 
questions  which  he  strove  to  answer  fairly,  as  if 
the  questioner  were  another  person  —  he  asked 
himself  if  he  was  in  love  with  Clara  Ellison. 
There  was  some  interval  before  he  got  an  an- 
swer. When  it  came,  his  inmost  self  replied  to 
that  other  person  who  sat  apart  as  judge  and 


DIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  43 

questioner:  "No;  if  I  were,  I  should  not  be 
attracted  by  each  pretty  face  I  see.  If  I  were, 
I  should  not  have  composed  already  more  than 
one  romance  of  which  that  girl  whom  I  helped 
yesterday  was  the  heroine.  I  might  fall  in  love 
with  Clara  Ellison  if  she  would  give  me  the 
chance,  but  at  present  I  am  only  jealous  when 
I  see  another  man  talking  to  her ;  I  am  not  in 
love  with  her  myself."  Then  he  thought  of  the 
shyness  with  which  his  cousin  Ann  had  charged 
him,  the  existence  of  which  he  admitted  only  too 
completely.  "  She  told  me  that  I  ought  to  know 
some  girl  well.  At  least  she  is  right  so  far  as 
this,  —  I  do  not  really  know  any  woman  of  my  own 
age.  However,  I  can't  make  the  experiment  now; 
she  would  not  advise  me  to  begin  with  a  village 
beauty,  and  the  fair  maidens  of  the  Squibnocket 
seem  to  be  fully  occupied  already." 

His  attention  now  was  drawn  to  a  little  lake 
five  or  six  acres  in  size,  to  the  border  of  which 
he  had  come.  He  had  not  seen  a  house  or  a 
human  being  since  he  left  the  village,  and  this 
place  looked  especially  wild.  On  one  side  of 
the  lake  was  a  small  barren  pasture,  in  which 
the  coarse  straggling  spears  of  grass  failed  to 
hide  the  sand  beneath  them  ;  but  the  three 
other  shores  were  covered  with  trees  growing 


44  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

down  to  the  water's  edge.  The  ground  rose 
slightly  away  from  the  lake,  thus  giving  to  the 
trees,  which  were  thickly  massed,  the  effect  of 
greater  height  than  really  belonged  to  them. 
So  close  did  the  forest  clasp  the  water,  that  the 
lake  looked  as  if  it  had  been  crowded  into  a 
space  too  small  for  it,  and,  in  the  crowding, 
had  toppled  over  a  few  pines  into  the  water. 

George  had  come  to  the  edge  of  the  pasture, 
and  the  sunset  glow  reflected  in  the  calm  water 
beside  the  green  foliage  reminded  him  that  it 
was  time  to  turn  back.  He  realized  that  he 
had  lost  his  way  ;  and,  not  knowing  even  the 
right  direction,  was  turning  around  to  retrace 
his  steps,  when  he  saw  a  girl  come  toward  him 
from  the  woods  on  the  other  side  of  the  pasture. 
He  went  to  meet  her,  meaning  to  ask  the  way 
home ;  as  he  approached,  he  saw,  to  his  sur- 
prise, that  she  was  the  girl  he  had  saved  at  the 
station.  She  was  tall,  with  an  erect  carriage, 
her  figure  too  thin  for  perfect  beauty,  but  grace- 
ful and  well-poised  ;  she  was  a  dark  brunette, 
her  features  regular  and  finely  cut.  She  wore 
a  white  dress  set  off  with  three  or  four  bows 
of  rich  crimson  ;  but  as  George  knew  nothing 
of  its  material,  his  inexperience  failed  to  get 
therefrom  a  clear  idea  of  her  social  standing, 

D* 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  45 

and  she  was  so  pretty  that  the  question  did  not 
interest  him  particularly.  Coming  up,  he  lifted 
his  hat,  and  received  a  bow  which  was  rather 
stately,  and  wholly  free  from  embarrassment. 
She  was  passing  on,  when  he  remembered  his 
question. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  the  way  to  Stapleton  ?  " 

"  Yes."  Then,  after  a  moment's  pause,  fol- 
lowed a  series  of  directions  more  and  more  com- 
plicated, and  at  which  George's  face  became  so 
perplexed  that  the  girl  smiled  slightly  in  spite 
of  an  evident  desire  to  be  very  serious. 

"If  you  are  going  there,  may  I"  —he  was 
going  to  say  mechanically  "  have  the  pleasure," 
but  he  checked  himself  in  time  — "  walk  back 
with  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  if  you  wish  to ;  we  turn  this  way." 
And  she  took  a  path  other  than  that  by  which 
George  had  come.  As  he  walked  beside  her 
he  felt  that  he,  the  city-bred  man,  should  make 
conversation. 

"  We  came  over  yesterday  to  the  hotel,  but 
we  have  taken  rooms  at  a  private  house  with  a 
Mrs.  Rogers,"  he  said. 

"  Yes  ;  I  know  that  your  rooms  are  at  my 
father's  house,"  she  answered  quietly,  speaking 
slowly  and  carefully,  with  a  pleasant  intonation, 
but  without  much  expression  in  her  voice. 


46  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  We  are  fortunate  indeed,"  said  George,  feel- 
ing that  a  compliment  was  called  for. 

"  Yes,  I  think  you  are  ;  the  situation  is  good, 
and  my  mother  is  called  a  good  cook,"  was  the 
reply,  in  a  tone  which  convinced  George  that 
the  family  conclave  had  not  been  unanimous  in 
receiving  Roger  and  himself  as  boarders. 

They  walked  on  for  a  moment  in  silence.  It 
is  very  pleasant  to  walk  beside  a  beautiful  girl  in 
the  gloaming,  even  without  talking  to  her ;  but 
the  pleasure  is  greatly  marred  if  your  conscience 
tells  you  that  you  ought  to  speak,  and  if,  when 
you  try  to  seize  upon  ideas,  you  find  them  fading, 
one  after  another,  into  intangible  mist.  George 
had  mentally  cursed  his  shyness  more  than  once, 
when  he  caught  another  glimpse  of  the  lake 
through  the  trees,  and  he  spoke  of  the  sunset 
glory  which  was  reflected  in  the  still  water. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  girl,  "  there  are  a  great  many 
pretty  ponds  about  here  ;  it  is  almost  the  only 
beautiful  thing  we  have,  except  the  sea." 

"  And  many  of  you  don't  seem  to  appreciate 
the  sea,"  said  George.  "  I  noticed  that  your 
next  neighbor  in  Stapleton  had  built  his  barn 
so  as  to  cut  off  all  view  of  the  ocean.  I  have 
thought  that  people  living  in  the  country,  or  by 
the  sea-shore,  do  not  notice  the  beauties  of 
nature  so  much  as  their  visitors  from  the  city." 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  47 

"  Perhaps  they  do  not  notice  them  so  much, 
they  feel  them  a  great  deal  more,"  in  rather 
a  proud  tone,  and  with  more  expression.  "  I 
never  noticed  the  beauties  of  the  sea  when  I 
was  a  child  ;  but  that  did  not  prevent  me  from 
missing  them  when  I  was  at  school,  and  could 
see  nothing  but  land  for  three  years.  It  may 
be,"  with  a  slight  smile,  "  that  I  have  noticed  the 
beauties  of  the  sea  more  since  I  came  back." 
She  went  on,  after  a  moment's  interval;  "  I  am 
surprised  how  you  from  the  city  do  not  seem  to 
notice  its  beauties.  Why,  we  from  the  country 
are  delighted  with  the  long  rows  of  lamps  in 
the  streets  and  the  clusters  of  them  in  the 
parks  ;  and  I  rather  think  that  we  look  at  the 
great  crowd  of  people  a  good  deal  as  you  look 
at  the  sea.  When  you  talk  of  nature  and  its 
beauties  as  if  they  had  nothing  to  do  with 
a  city,  you  don't  seem  to  think  that  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  human  nature  at  all." 

"  Very  true,  Miss  Rogers,"  said  George  ;  "  we 
don't  always  think  of  that." 

The  words  were  simple,  but  he  spoke  them 
in  a  tone  of  respectful  attention  and  deference 
which  produced  its  effect  ;  his  companion's  face 
relaxed  a  little  the  hardness  of  its  lines,  and 
when  she  spoke  again  it  was  in  a  different  tone 


48  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

of  voice  as  she  looked  at  George's  hand  still 
bandaged  in  his  handkerchief :  "  I  hope  your 
hand  does  not  pain  you  very  much." 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all,"  said  George  ;  "  and  I 
ought  to  ask  whether  you  were  not  hurt.  It  was 
very  selfish  in  me  to  have  assumed  last  night 
at  the  station  that  I  was  the  only  one  who  had 
suffered." 

"You  were  not  selfish  at  all,"  said  Mary 
Rogers,  in  a  firm  but  quiet  tone,  not  as  if  she 
were  indignant  at  his  thus  depreciating  himself, 
but  merely  as  if  she  were  stating  a  fact  con- 
cerning which  she  had  positive  knowledge.  "  It 
was  a  fearfully  narrow  escape,  and  at  that  mo- 
ment —  before  you  caught  hold  of  me  —  I  was 
so  sure  I  should  be  killed  that  I  was  not  even 
afraid  of  it.  They  say  I  ought  to  shudder  at  the 
thought  of  how  near  I  came  to  death,  and  wake 
up  with  a  start  at  night  thinking  of  it ;  except 
just  at  the  instant  when  I  found  myself  safe  on 
the  platform,  I  have  not  realized  the  risk  at  all. 
Were  you  ever  very  near  to  being  killed  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  quite  near  once  in  my  life.  Would  you 
like  to  hear  about  it  ? "  seeing  that  she  looked 
interested. 

"  Very  much,  if  it  does  not  pain  you  to  speak 
of  it." 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  49 

"  Oh,  no,  not  in  the  least,"  with  a  slight  laugh. 
"  There  was  a  large  fire  in  the  city  when  I  was 
a  boy  pretty  well  grown,  and  I  rushed  off  to  see 
it,  as  I  often  had  done  before.  I  was  old  enough 
to  keep  away  from  the  engines  and  the  firemen, 
where  I  should  have  been  scorched  and  drenched 
in  turn,  and  yet  not  too  old  to  enjoy  looking  at 
the  fire  without  thinking  of  the  harm  it  was 
doing.  I  was  in  the  entrance  of  an  alley  leading 
from  the  street  on  which  the  burning  houses 
stood,  and  nearly  opposite  to  them  ;  the  firemen 
had  put  their  long  ladders  against  the  front 
walls,  and  had  climbed  up  with  the  hose ;  some 
of  them  were  still  on  the  ladders,  and  some 
standing  in  the  windows  of  the  building  playing 
into  the  mass  of  flame  and  smoke  inside,  when 
between  the  second  and  third  stories  the  brick 
wall  slowly,  as  if  a  giant  had  pushed  it,  bent  out 
toward  the  street,  and  then  the  whole  mass 
came  crashing  down ;  the  ladders,  broken  to 
pieces,  and  with  the  firemen  still  clinging  to 
them,  were  sent  flying  through  the  air  half 
across  the  street,  while  the  firemen  in  the  win- 
dows were  plunged  head  first  into  the  flames. 
The  crowd,  which  was  packed  as  close  as  men  can 
stand,  gave  a  sound  unlike  any  I  ever  have  heard, 
—  a  sort  of  low  groan,  —  and  fell  back.  The 
4 


50  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

man  behind  me  tumbled  down  ;  I  was  tripped 
across  his  legs  and  fell  on  him  in  the  gutter  ; 
three  or  four  others  were  thrown  across  us,  and 
the  crowd  still  fell  back.  I  was  thinking  of  all 
the  stories  I  had  read  in  which  people  were 
crushed  to  death,  when  I  heard  the  rush  and 
clatter  of  an  engine  whose  horses  were  running 
away  up  the  street  toward  us.  There  was  an 
engine-house  in  the  alley  where  I  had  fallen, 
and  for  an  instant  I  had  to  wait  before  I  knew 
if  the  horses  would  turn  in  and  drag  their 
engine  over  us.  They  went  by,  and  the  crowd, 
which  had  got  over  its  fright,  stood  still  and 
pulled  us  to  our  feet.  I  thought,  as  you  just 
said,  that  I  should  dream  of  falling  walls,  and 
the  air  filled  with  ladders  and  firemen ;  but  the 
recollection  never  gave  me  more  than  a  pleasant 
excitement  when  I  told  the  story.  A  week 
afterwards  a  little  child  fell  on  the  sidewalk  and 
crushed  its  face  ;  it  was  taken  up  and  carried 
off  to  the  hospital.  I  did  not  get  over  the  sight 
of  it  for  a  fortnight." 

They  had  been  walking  on  through  the  woods, 
and  had  now  come  out  in  sight  of  the  village, 
within  a  few  steps  of  Mr.  Rogers's  house.  Mary 
had  been  listening,  her  face  gradually  lighting 
up  with  warm  interest,  until  George  spoke  of 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  51 

the  child's  hurt,  when,  instead  of  the  disgust 
and  horror  which  the  recollection  still  caused 
in  him,  her  features,  which  were  naturally  rather 
stern,  softened  into  an  expression  of  pity  which 
made  George  think  her  more  beautiful  than  ever, 
—  an  impression  which  was  strengthened  by  the 
tone  of  her  voice  as  she  said :  "  Poor  child ! 
Yes  ;  I  guess  our  hearts  are  not  large  enough 
to  hold  the  sympathy  we  ought  to  have  when 
a  ship  goes  down  with  all  on  board,  but  we 
can  pity  a  child  whose  doll  has  tumbled  into 
the  well." 

There  was  a  short  pause  until  they  reached 
the  gate  of  the  yard  before  the  house  ;  Mary 
moved  as  if  to  go  on  up  the  road,  and  George 
turned  to  leave  her.  Raising  his  hat,  he  said  in 
a  voice  which  showed  how  hard  it  was  for  him 
to  pay  a  compliment,  and  yet  which  added  to 
its  value  by  demonstrating  its  rarity:  "Thank 
you  for  showing  me  the  way,  —  and  for  giving 
me  several  things  to  think  about." 

She  met  his  salutation  with  a  bow  which  was 
as  free  from  embarrassment  as  that  with  which 
she  first  had  greeted  him,  and  went  on  up  the 
street. 


52  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 


IV. 


WHEN  George  came  into  the  room,  he 
found  Roger  sitting  there.  The  latter 
hardly  gave  George  time  to  close  the  door 
before  he  burst  out :  "  At  last  you  are  un- 
masked, friend  Marlow ;  you,  the  bashful  young 
man,  who  cannot  talk  to  ladies,  forsooth,  because 
you  are  so  shy,  —  you  have  n't  the  least  difficulty 
in  making  the  acquaintance  of  a  village  beauty 
long  before  I,  who  pass  in  the  world  for  a  gay 
Lothario,  have  found  out  her  name.  Allow 
me  to  congratulate  you  as  I  retire  from  the 
contest." 

George  stopped  and  blushed,  then  said, "  Oh,  I 
had  forgotten  that  you  did  not  know  it  was  Miss 
Mary  Rogers  whom  I  pulled  away  from  the  train 
yesterday." 

Roger  fairly  jumped.  "What,  have  we  here 
a  real  romance  ?  A  gentleman  saves  a  lady 
from  destruction  ;  he  meets  her  unexpectedly  and 
escorts  her  home,  making  his  adieu  with  the 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  53 

devotion  of  a  Spanish  hidalgo  saluting  his  queen. 
I  say,  George,  old  boy,  you  ought  to  thank  me 
for  suggesting  that  we  should  take  up  our  abode 
here,  and  so  giving  you  ample  chance  for  flirta- 
tion. Let  me  speak  to  the  fascinating  Mary  now 
and  then,  will  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  flirting  with  Miss 
Rogers,"  said  George,  shortly. 

"  No,  certainly  not,  of  course  ;  but  how  do  you 
reconcile  the  ease  with  which  you  talked  to  the 
heroine  just  now,  and  the  shyness  you  tell  me 
so  much  about  ?" 

George  said  nothing,  and  went  on  into  his 
own  room.  He  was  not  less  romantic  than  most 
young  men,  and  his  adventure  did  not  displease 
him.  Certainly  it  had  not  been  easy  to  begin 
his  conversation  with  Miss  Rogers,  and  yet  he 
admitted  that  he  had  been  at  his  ease  before 
the  conversation  was  over.  In  fact,  so  unac- 
customed was  he  to  pay  compliments,  that  now 
he  almost  shuddered  at  his  own  temerity. 

A  few  moments  later  Roger  came  in,  and  the 
two  young  men  talked  over  their  travels  and 
their  college  days  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 
George  certainly  did  not  dream  of  fires  or  of 
railway  accidents.  Whether  he  dreamed  of  any- 
thing else  is  uncertain. 


54  xlMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

The  next  morning  George  and  Roger  came 
downstairs  to  a  breakfast  which  Mrs.  Rogers 
declared  was  "dreadful  late,"  though  it  seemed 
very  early  to  her  guests.  The  table  was  set, 
not  in  the  kitchen  where  the  family  usually 
breakfasted,  but  in  the  living-room,  which  led 
out  of  it.  This  room  was  as  neat  as  all  the 
rest  of  Mrs.  Rogers's  domain,  which  was  saying 
a  good  deal  in  its  favor.  Two  windows  looked 
out  on  the  bay,  letting  in  plenty  of  sunlight ;  on 
the  floor  was  a  dark  Kidderminster  carpet ;  there 
was  a  table  between  the  windows,  covered  with 
an  enamelled  cloth  of  gay  colors  and  marvel- 
lous pattern  ;  the  chairs  were  straw-bottomed, 
and  looked  as  if  they  were  meant  for  use ; 
there  were  two  or  three  engravings  cut  from 
"  Harper's  Weekly,"  mostly  nautical  in  their 
subjects,  neatly  tacked  upon  the  walls  ;  and  the 
whole  room  had  an  air  of  cheerfulness  and  com- 
fort that  contrasted  strongly  with  the  look  of 
the  best  parlor,  which  was  separated  from  it  by 
folding-doors. 

These  doors  Mrs.  Rogers  had  opened  in  honor 
of  her  guests,  and,  as  a. further  mark  of  her  es- 
teem, had  raised  one  of  the  white  window-shades 
a  little,  and  thus  let  in  light  enough  to  show 
how  dark  the  room  really  was.  There  was  a 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  55 

carpet  on  the  floor,  which,  to  all  appearance, 
never  had  been  trodden  upon  ;  chairs  covered 
with  horsehair  upon  which  it  seemed  no  human 
creature  ever  had  sat,  arranged  in  those  parts 
of  the  room  which  no  one  but  a  misanthrope 
would  wish  to  occupy.  A  table  stood  in  the 
middle,  covered  with  a  bright  red  cloth  ;  on  it 
was  a  glass  kerosene  lamp  which  never  had 
been  lit,  through  whose  sides,  in  spite  of  Mrs. 
Rogers's  care,  some  of  the  oil  seemed  to  have 
oozed.  There  were  perhaps  a  half-dozen  books 
on  the  table,  but  they  looked  like  those  one 
sees  on  the  stage  ;  for  some  reason  or  other  you 
did  not  connect  the  idea  of  reading  with  them. 
On  the  walls  were  several  works  of  art.  There 
was  an  oil-painting  representing  a  child  of  un- 
certain sex  clasping  a  creature  which  those  fa- 
miliar with  the  artist's  school  would  tell  you  was 
a  lamb,  —  and  tell  you  truly,  because  they  would 
base  their  opinion,  not  on  any  fancied  resem- 
blance, but  on  the  well-known  fact  that  lambs 
always  accompany  children  of  that  age.  There 
was  also  an  older  work,  —  a  female  figure  standing 
in  the  shade  of  a  singularly  symmetrical  weep- 
ing-willow, resting  her  arm  upon  a  large-sized 
tombstone,  on  which  was  engraved,  "  Sacred  to 
the  Memory  of ."  Doubtless  it  had  been 


56  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

intended  originally  to  fill  in  the  blank  with  the 
name  of  a  deceased  relative  ;  but  as  no  relative 
had  given  the  owners  of  this  picture  the  oppor- 
tunity, they  had  not  thought  it  right  to  keep 
such  a  treasure  hidden  away  until  the  occasion 
should  arrive. 

The  two  young  men  hardly  had  time  to  see 
these  things,  when  Captain  Rogers  came  in  from 
the  kitchen,  followed  by  his  daughter.  The 
Captain  was  hardly  a  handsome  man  himself,  but 
from  his  looks  you  would  instinctively  suppose 
that  he  had  handsome  daughters.  He  was  tall, 
very  broad  and  strong,  his  hair  almost  white, 
though  he  could  not  be  above  fifty-five  years 
old  ;  his  face  and  features  were  large,  the  latter 
strongly  marked,  his  skin  burnt  brown,  and  so 
tough  that  about  his  neck  it  lay  in  folds  like  the 
hide  of  a  rhinoceros  ;  he  had  keen  blue  eyes  and 
a  deep,  harsh  voice. 

Mrs.  Rogers  was  bustling  about  at  the  head 
of  the  table  and  talking  to  Urquhart.  Just  be- 
fore they  sat  down,  she  gave  an  uneasy  fidget, 
and  said,  "Mr.  Urquhart,  let  me  make  you 
acquainted  with  my  daughter  Mary." 

Roger  bowed  in  a  style  just  the  least  exag- 
gerated, and  would  not  appear  chilled  by  the 
cold  "  Good-morning"  he  got  in  return.  As  he 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  57 

stepped  away  to  his  seat  beside  the  Captain 
(Mary  had  taken  care  to  sit  alone  on  the  other 
side),  Mrs.  Rogers  presented  George  in  like 
manner,  having  given  so  much  attention  to 
Urquhart's  compliments  as  not  to  notice  that 
Mary  and  George  had  greeted  each  other  quietly 
a  moment  before. 

George  had  not  time  to  bow  before  his  friend 
interrupted :  "  There  is  no  need  of  an  introduc- 
tion there,  Mrs.  Rogers,  after  what  happened 
yesterday  ;  and  I  assure  you,  Miss  Mary,  that 
Mr.  Holyoke  has  done  nothing  but  congratulate 
himself  on  the  adventure  ever  since." 

The  consequences  of  his  remark  were  hardly 
what  he  expected.  George  and  Mary  both 
blushed  ;  the  former  looked  indignant,  the  latter 
very  much  embarrassed.  On  the  faces  of  Cap- 
tain Rogers  and  his  wife  appeared  the  most  un- 
feigned astonishment,  —  astonishment,  which,  in 
the  case  of  the  Captain,  did  not  seem  very  agree- 
able. Mary  broke  the  silence,  looking  at  the 
table,  and  only  toward  the  end  of  the  sentence 
raising  her  eyes  with  an  effort. 

"  Mr.  Holyoke  was  kind  enough  to  pull  me 
upon  the  platform  of  the  depot  when  I  had 
slipped  down  in  getting  off  the  car  yesterday." 

"Why  didn't   you   let  me   know   last  night, 


58  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

Mary  ? "  said  the  mildly  complaining  voice  of 
Mrs.  Rogers. 

George  had  sat  still,  wearing  upon  his  face 
that  look  of  discomfort  which  belongs  to  a  mod- 
est man  detected  in  a  good  action ;  but  now  he 
broke  in  :  "  Why,  it  was  nothing,  Mrs.  Rogers. 
Miss  Rogers's  foot  slipped,  and  I  only  steadied 
her  until  she  stepped  upon  the  platform ;  it  was 
nothing  at  all." 

"  But  it  was  a  great  deal  to  save  my  daughter 
from  being  killed,  and  I  thank  you  for  it,  sir," 
said  Captain  Rogers,  in  his  bass  voice,  raising 
his  huge  frame  from  the  chair  and  stretching 
out  his  great  hand  across  the  table.  There 
was  nothing  for  George  to  do  but  take  it  with 
his  unwounded  left,  although  the  Captain's  cor- 
diality well-nigh  disabled  him  for  the  rest  of  the 
breakfast. 

The  meal  went  on  in  silence,  until  Roger,  who 
felt  himself  to  blame,  began  a  conversation  with 
the  Captain.  They  talked  of  the  sea,  and  al- 
though Roger's  knowledge  was  of  the  slightest, 
he  appeared  interested,  and  led  on  his  host  into 
such  a  flow  of  anecdote,  that  the  silence  of  the 
rest  of  the  party  was  free  from  awkwardness. 
Mrs.  Rogers,  indeed,  filled  all  possible  gaps  by 
pressing  her  savory  breakfast  on  the  two  young 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  59 

men.  An  independent-looking  girl  waited  upon 
table,  but  she  did  not  seem  of  much  lower  social 
station  than  her  mistress,  and  called  Mary  freely 
by  her  Christian  name,  —  in  fact,  the  latter  sev- 
eral times  helped  her;  whereat  George,  who 
often  had  been  blamed  by  Roger  for  treating  all 
women  as  if  they  belonged  to  the  same  social 
class,  could  hardly  restrain  himself  from  offering 
his  aid. 

Breakfast  over,  Roger  went  upstairs  for  a  mo- 
ment, leaving  George  looking  out  of  the  window 
at  the  bay.  He  had  not  been  there  long  when 
he  heard  a  low  voice  behind  him  speak  his  name, 
and,  turning  round,  he  saw  Mary. 

"  I  did  not  want  you  to  think  that  I  did  not  tell 
my  mother  of  your  kindness  yesterday  because 
I  did  not  appreciate  it.  I  —  She  paused. 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  make  so  much  of  so 
slight  a  thing,"  said  George.  "  Why  should  you 
have  spoken  of  it  ?  It  was  a  mistake  on  Roger's 
part  to  say  anything  about  it." 

"No,  it  was  all  right  of  Mr.  Urquhart  to  speak. 
I  —  I  really  do  thank  you  very  much  indeed." 

George  was  more  than  ordinarily  at  his  ease, 
because  of  his  companion's  embarrassment,  and 
he  spoke  in  what  Roger  called  the  Chevalier 
Bayard  tone,  which  he  seldom  was  self-possessed 


60  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

enough  to  use.  "Then  please  do  not  think  any- 
thing more  about  it ;  it  is  I  who  am  fortunate  in 
having  had  the  opportunity  of  helping  you." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mary.  She  still  stood 
there  as  if  she  thought  it  would  be  abrupt  to 
leave,  while  yet  she  had  no  reason  for  staying. 
George  had  no  more  neatly  turned  sentences  at 
hand,  and  was  fain  to  come  down  to  the  beauty 
of  the  bay  splashing  in  the  morning  sunshine. 
Mary  hardly  had  answered,  when  her  mother's 
voice  called  her  just  as  Roger  came  into  the 
room. 

The  two  friends  went  off  to  hire  a  sail-boat  for 
their  summer's  use ;  within  ten  minutes  there- 
after the  Rogers  family  happened  to  meet  in  the 
kitchen  just  as  Mrs.  Thomas,  a  neighbor,  came 
in  at  the  back  door. 

"I  just  stepped  over  to  hear  what  kind  of 
boarders  you've  got,  Mis'  Rogers.  I  see  two 
young  men  round  here  yesterday  ;  I  see  they 
was  city  folks.  You  're  going  to  take  'em  for 
the  summer,  I  s'pose  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  guess  so,"  said  Mrs.  Rogers.  "  One 
of  'em  is  a  kind  of  easy,  pleasant-spoken  sort  of 
man  ;  the  other  one  seems  dreadful  quiet  and 
rather  stuck  up.  He  has  n't  got  anything  to  say 
for  himself ;  don't  you  think  so,  Mary  ? " 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  6 1 

"  Mr.  Urquhart  is  rather  too  easy,  I  should 
say  ;  Mr.  Holyoke  is  very  pleasant,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Well,  it 's  natural  you  should  stand  up  for 
Mr.  Holyoke,  but  I  don't  see  why  you  should  n't 
like  the  other  one,"  said  Mrs.  Rogers,  bridling 
a  little  as  she  remembered  how  large  a  part  of 
Mr.  Urquhart's  conversation  with  .her  had  been 
made  up  of  pretty  direct  compliments. 

"I  don't  quite  like  his  way,  that's  all,"  said 
Mary. 

"  He's  got  very  pleasant  ways,  I  should  say," 
said  her  father.  "  He  talks  right  up  ;  and  if  he 
don't  know  anything  about  the  sea,  he 's  mighty 
glad  to  learn." 

"  Well,  I  won't  keep  you  from  your  work, 
Mis'  Rogers.  I  only  wanted  to  know  ;  don't  let 
the  young  fellows  carry  on  too  much,  Mary." 
Then,  as  Mary  left  the  room,  "  She  's  pretty,  but 
somehow  I  don't  think  they  '11  bother  her  much, 
she's  too  kind  of  top-lofty  ;  well,  as  I  was  say- 
ing, I  won't  keep  you  from  your  work.  Good 
morning." 

George  and  Roger  spent  the  day  in  sailing 
and  fishing ;  and,  being  refreshed  by  a  lunch 
which  Mrs.  Rogers  had  put  up  for  them,  did 
not  come  back  until  tea-time,  which,  as  it  seemed 


62  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

to  them,  she  had  put  in  the  middle  of  the  after- 
noon. Full  an  hour  and  a  half  of  daylight  was 
still  left  when  they  had  finished,  and  George 
proposed  another  sail. 

"  You  are  too  energetic,"  laughed  Roger. 
"  Have  n't  I  sailed  all  the  morning  and  all  the 
afternoon  ?  I  shall  take  a  pipe  and  a  book  to 
finish  the  day  with." 

George  strolled  down  to  the  wharf  by  himself. 
It  was  not  one  of  those  bustling,  noisy,  vulgar 
wharves,  built  to  receive  cargoes  of  merchandise 
from  stately  ships  and  steamers.  It  was  very 
small,  very  quiet,  and  very  much  out  of  repair. 
The  wooden  platform  was  shaky  in  many  places, 
and  actually  was  broken  through  here  and  there  ; 
the  piles  were  bent  in  all  directions,  and  many 
of  them  had  slipped  away,  until  nothing  but  their 
heads  stood  up  above  the  water.  An  ancient 
coaster  was  beached  along  one  side ;  her  masts 
still  stood,  but  her  standing  rigging  hung  about 
them  in  shreds  and  rags,  and  the  tide  rose  and 
fell  as  regularly  in  her  hold  as  on  the  beach 
under  her  bows.  Along  the  end  and  the  other 
side  of  the  wharf  three  or  four  neat  cat-boats 
were  fastened,  one  of  which  George  and  Roger 
had  hired. 

As  he  was  walking  down   the   hill,  George 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  63 

thought  over  a  remark  which  Mrs.  Rogers  had 
made  at  tea.  Mary  had  not  been  there  ;  and, 
in  reply  to  a  question  from  Urquhart,  her 
mother  had  said  that  she  was  gone  for  the 
afternoon  to  Sanket,  the  next  village  on  the 
coast. 

"  We  did  not  go  to  Sanket  this  morning,  why 
not  go  there  now  ? "  he  thought.  "  It  can't  be 
very  far  off,  and  there  is  a  good  breeze." 

When  he  came  down  to  the  wharf,  he  saw  a 
couple  of  men  leaning  against  one  of  the  great 
mooring-posts.  They  had  nothing  to  do  except 
for  that  indefinite  employment  which  standing 
on  a  wharf  and  looking  at  the  water  is  supposed 
to  give.  George  spoke  to  them  as  he  came  up : 
"  Is  Sanket  Bay  the  next  one  to  this  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  one  of  the  men.  "  The  next  bay 
to  the  eastward." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  how  I  shall  lay  my  course 
to  get  there  ? " 

"  Well,  you  go  round  that  point  and  then 
keep  through  the  narrows  till  you  get  to  the 
mouth  of  the  harbor;  then  you  stand  out  to 
sea  to  the  suthard  'n'  eastard  about  half  a  mile 
—  lemme  see  —  no,  the  tide  's  about  high;  you 
can  keep  on  over  the  flats  close  to  Grassy  Point, 
and  then  follow  the  stakes." 


64  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

The  directions  were  so  lucid  that  George 
wished  to  make  sure  of  knowing  Sanket  when 
he  saw  it. 

"  Is  Sanket  much  of  a  place  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Biggest  location  about  here,"  said  the  other 
man. 

George  thanked  them  for  their  kindness,  and 
pushed  off. 

"  Look  out  for  that  spile  there  under  water," 
said  the  man.  "  Jenkins  ought  to  have  the  old 
thing  fixed  up." 

Having  heard  the  "spile"  graze  his  boat's 
side,  George  trimmed  his  sail  for  a  run  out  of 
the  harbor  nearly  before  the  wind.  His  knowl- 
edge of  the  art  of  sailing  was  very  small,  and  the 
way  among  the  many  flats  from  Stapleton  to 
Sanket  was  not  easy  to  find  ;  but  you  may  notice 
that  if  a  man  will  know  but  little  enough  about 
sailing,  Providence  will  guide  him  ;  perhaps  in 
order  to  lure  him  on,  as  Fortune  does  those 
young  gamblers  who  are  making  their  first  trial 
with  the  dice.  George's  method  was  very  simple. 
As  soon  as  he  had  reached  the  first  point,  he 
steered  straight  for  Sanket,  which  was  full  in 
sight. 

He  saw  other  boats  taking  elaborate  and  round- 
about courses,  but  he  did  not  heed  them,  and  kept 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  65 

on  as  if  he  were  a  steamer  in  mid-Atlantic,  with 
utter  disregard  of  the  "  stakes,"  which  he  found 
to  be  small  pine  poles,  with  a  little  tuft  of 
needles  still  left  at  the  top.  So  shallow  was  the 
water  everywhere,  that  these  served  to  mark  out 
those  slight  hollows  in  the  far-reaching  sand- 
flats  to  which  the  citizens  of  Sanket  and  Staple- 
ton  gave  the  name  of  channels.  As  they  used 
exactly  the  same  kind  of  stakes  to  mark  out  their 
channels  and  their  private  oyster-beds,  these 
stakes  were  not  particularly  useful  in  guiding  a 
stranger.  George  congratulated  himself  as  he 
found  that  he  was  passing  boats  larger  than  his 
own,  while  the  old  salts  who  commanded  the 
other  craft  were  disappointed  that  he  did  not 
pay  for  his  rashness  by  sticking  fast  on  some 
convenient  bar.  The  tide,  however,  was  high, 
the  flats  were  covered  at  least  two  feet  deep, 
his  boat  drew  less,  and  George  soon  found  him- 
self within  hail  of  the  wharf  belonging  to  the 
village  of  Sanket. 

He  saw,  as  he  came  nearer  the  small  pier,  a 
female  figure  standing  at  its  end,  that  seemed 
to  be  looking  after  a  boat  full  of  laughing  people 
which  he  had  but  just  passed.  George's  imagi- 
nation was  very  vivid.  He  fancied  that  the  figure 
closely  resembled  Mary  Rogers,  and  there  was 
5 


66  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

a  moment's  feeling  of  pride  and  satisfaction  in 
finding  her ;  although,  to  tell  the  truth,  he 
would  not  have  admitted,  even  to  himself,  that 
such  was  his  object  in  coming  to  Sanket,  and 
though,  beyond  the  satisfaction  of  saying  "Good 
afternoon,"  it  was  hard  to  see  what  good  the 
finding  her  would  do  him. 

As  the  other  boat  receded,  and  George  came 
nearer,  the  woman  turned  her  attention  to  his 
boat ;  but  just  as  he  had  come  near  enough  to 
be  almost  sure  that  it  was  Mary,  she  turned  and 
walked  briskly  up  the  wharf.  George  was  not 
much  behind  her ;  he  ran  his  boat  full  into  the 
pier  in  a  most  unseamanlike  fashion,  and,  having 
fastened  it,  walked  pretty  rapidly  up  toward  the 
village  of  Sanket,  which  lay  three  or  four  hun- 
dred yards  inland,  telling  himself  that  he  wished 
to  see  a  pretty  vine-covered  school-house  that 
overlooked  the  bay. 

The  woman  walked  on  briskly  until  she  had 
gone  some  distance  from  the  wharf,  when  she 
slackened  her  pace.  Although  George  gained 
rapidly  on  her,  she  could  not  hear  his  tread  on 
the  sand  and  loose  turf ;  and  when  he  was  within 
a  few  feet  she  turned  round,  unconscious  of  his 
presence,  to  look  again  at  the  bay.  It  was  Mary. 
She  started  a  little  on  seeing  him,  and  did  not 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  67 

look  over  well  pleased.  George  could  think  of 
no  very  good  reason  why  he  should  stop,  and 
his  embarrassment  suggested  that  he  had  better 
keep  on.  But  it  would  be  too  absurd,  after  pur- 
suing Mary  all  the  way  from  Stapleton,  now, 
when  great  good  luck  had  thrown  her  in  his 
way,  to  pass  her  without  saying  something;  and 
that  he  had  come  to  Sanket  on  the  chance  of 
seeing  Mary,  he  now  was  suddenly  driven  to 
admit.  Something  must  be  said,  however,  un- 
less he  meant  to  pass  by ;  for  evidently  she  had 
no  intention  of  keeping  on  herself. 

"  You  came  over  from  Stapleton  this  morning, 
I  suppose.  I  was  walking  up  to  look  at  that 
pretty  school-house  there,"  he  said,  trying  to 
appear  at  his  ease,  as  the  school-house  expla- 
nation occurred  to  him  in  the  nick  of  time. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mary,  simply. 

"And  are  you  not  going  back  to-night?  Mrs. 
Rogers  said  that  she  expected  you." 

"  No,  I  think  not." 

"  Can  I  take  back  any  message  to  her  from 
you  ? "  said  George,  to  whose  natural  embarrass- 
ment now  was  added  the  sense  that  he  was  not 
wanted. 

"  No,"  said  Mary,  doubtfully,  and  more  ill 
at  ease  than  George  had  yet  seen  her  ;  then, 


68  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

speaking  nervously  and  quickly:  "Yes,  if  you 
would  be  so  good  ;  the  truth  is  that  I  came  over 
in  that  boat  you  see  out  there,"  pointing  to  the 
boat  which  George  had  noticed  on  coming  in. 
"  They  have  gone  off  and  left  me,  I  don't  know 
why.  I  have  cousins  here,  and  shall  pass  the 
night  with  them  ;  but  as  I  cannot  see  any  other 
boat  going  back  to-night,  I  would  take  it  very 
kindly  if  you  would  tell  my  mother  how  it  is." 

"  Can  I  not  take  you  back  ? "  said  George, 
rather  stiffly,  and  wondering  whether  the  social 
prejudices  of  the  people  among  whom  he  had 
fallen  would  deem  such  an  offer  improper. 

"  No  ;  I  'm  obliged  to  you.  They  '11  be  very 
glad  to  have  me  stay  with  them  here  ;  but  if  you 
would  take  the  message  —  " 

"  Certainly ;  but  may  I  not  walk  with  you  to 
the  house,  so  that  I  can  tell  Mrs.  Rogers  that  I 
left  you  with  your  friends  ? " 

"  Yes,  if  you  wish  ;  the  house  is  just  there," 
pointing  to  a  cottage  a  few  rods  off. 

As  they  walked  on,  George,  feeling  that  his 
first  invitation  had  not  been  very  cordial,  said 
with  some  hesitation :  "  Of  course  you  must  do 
as  you  like,  Miss  Rogers,  but  I  should  be  very 
glad  if  you  would  go  back  in  my  boat.  If 
you  are  afraid  of  my  ignorance  of  boating,  I 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  69 

suppose  I  can  get  some  one  more  experienced 
to  go  with  us." 

George's  tone  and  manner  had  been  so  defer- 
ential and  courteous  throughout,  that  Mary,  who 
saw  fully  the  delicacy  of  his  last  offer,  felt  that 
she  ought  to  show  more  warmth  and  gratitude 
in  return. 

"  I  am  really  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr. 
Holyoke ;  it 's  very  kind  of  you,  but  I  think  I 
had  better  not.  I  shall  be  very  comfortable  here, 
and  my  mother  will  not  fret  if  you  tell  her 
where  I  am." 

They  had  come  to  the  cottage  which  Mary 
had  pointed  out,  and  had  knocked  once  at  the 
back  door,  when  they  heard  a  woman's  shrill 
voice  calling  from  the  next  house :  "  Be  you 
lookin'  for  Mis'  Howe  ?  She  's  gone  over  to 
Jones's  Neck  to  take  care  of  her  father." 

"  When  will  she  be  back  ? "  said  Mary. 

"  Oh,  is  it  you,  Miss  Rogers  ? "  said  the  woman, 
coming  over  toward  them  and  looking  curiously 
at  George.  "  Adresty  's  gone  to  look  out  after 
her  father  ;  she  won't  be  back  for  a  week  or  so. 
I  hope  your  health  's  good.  'S  your  father  got 
back?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mary.  Then,  as  the  woman 
seemed  ready  to  continue  the  conversation,  "  I 


70  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

must  hurry  back,  it  is  getting  late ;  good  even- 
ing, Mrs.  Jones."  And  she  walked  away  toward 
the  wharf,  George  following. 

"  I  am  going  to  accept  your  very  kind  offer, 
Mr.  Holyoke,"  she  said  as  soon  as  they  were  out 
of  hearing. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  George ;  then,  doubtfully, 
"shall  I  try  to  find  a  boatman  ?" 

"  Not  unless  you  wish.     I  will  trust  you." 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  71 


V. 


AS  he  walked  beside  her,  George  felt  the 
sense  of  exhilaration  that  every  chivalrous 
man  must  feel  when  he  finds  himself  placed  with 
a  pretty  girl  in  a  situation  rather  romantic.  He 
certainly  was  not  in  love  with  Mary  Rogers ;  no 
man  of  any  depth  can  be  really  in  love  with  a 
girl  at  such  short  notice.  But  neither  were  the 
knights  of  romance  in  love  with  all  the  fair  ladies 
whom  they  were  wont  to  meet  sitting  lone  in  a 
forest  glade,  and  to  whom  they  made  such  gal- 
lant speeches  ;  no  one  but  a  Mormon  could  be. 
Nathless,  I  trow  the  heart  of  such  a  knight  beat 
high  at  the  smile  of  such  a  fair  one,  and  he 
cherished  jealously  that  natural  right  of  protec- 
tion, —  the  noblest  right  of  men  which  women 
do  not  share. 

They  embarked  quickly  and  started  for  Staple- 
ton.  Scarcely  were  they  seated,  when  Mary 
said,  as  if  by  way  of  final  explanation,  "I  was 
standing  on  the  wharf  there,  looking  at  the  boat 


72  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

in  which  I  came  over.  When  I  first  saw  your 
boat,  I  did  not  know  whose  it  was." 

"And  when  you  did  know,"  said  George,  with 
a  boldness  that  surprised  himself,  "you  walked 
away  from  it  as  fast  as  you  could,  I  think  ;  did 
you  not  ? " 

"  Would  you  have  had  me  do  anything  else  ?  " 
said  Mary,  seriously,  and  as  if  asking  a  real 
question. 

"No,"  said  George,  truthfully.  Then,  thinking 
it  better  to  begin  upon  a  subject  safer  even  if 
less  interesting,  "That  is  a  wonderfully  pretty 
school-house  there,"  pointing  to  his  excuse  for 
landing  at  Sanket. 

It  was,  indeed,  wonderfully  pretty,  almost  in 
spite  of  itself,  for  it  had  been  built  originally 
after  the  approved  Noah's  Ark  pattern,  so  dear 
to  our  Puritan  ancestors.  But  a  small  rude 
porch  had  been  put  up  before  the  door,  while 
the  whole  building,  with  the  porch  and  even  the 
covered  windlass  on  the  well  near  by,  was  draped 
in  woodbine,  Japanese  ivy,  and  honeysuckle. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  think  it  is  pretty  ;  it  is 
my  school-house  where  I  teach,"  said  Mary. 

"And  it  is  evidently  your  taste  which  has 
made  it  pretty ;  you  had  not  a  very  promising 
building  to  begin  on." 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  73 

"  It  is  not  my  taste  only.  Some  of  my  boys 
put  up  the  porch  for  me,  and  that  really  is  the 
chief  improvement.  I  thought  of  the  vines,  but 
they  helped  me  plant  them,  and  one  boy  per- 
suaded his  father,  Deacon  Jones,  who  is  on  the 
school-committee,  that  they  would  not  rot  the 
shingles.  The  situation  is  good,  and  I  try  and 
make  the  children  notice  the  beauties  of  Nature 
as  much  as  you  say  their  city  visitors  do." 

"  I  see  you  have  not  forgotten  that  unhappy 
speech  of  mine,  though  I  think  you  might  have 
forgiven  it  for  the  sake  of  those  sentiments  it 
gave  you  a  chance  to  express." 

"  I  do  not  want  to  forget  it.  Is  n't  it  right  to 
'  see  ourselves  as  others  see  us '  ?  But,  seriously, 
Mr.  Holyoke,  is  it  quite  fair  to  say  that  we  do 
not  notice  the  beauties  of  Nature,  while  at  the 
same  time  you  would  say  that  we  cannot  appre- 
ciate poetry  and  painting  and  so  forth  ?  What 
do  you  leave  to  us  ? " 

"  Certainly,  I  cannot  deny  your  appreciation 
of  poetry,  Miss  Rogers,  for  you  have  just  quoted 
Burns  to  me." 

"  That  is  not  fair,"  said  Mary,  still  speaking 
slowly,  but  with  her  eyes  sparkling,  and  lighting 
up  her  face  until  George  thought  he  never  had 
seen  any  one  so  pretty.  "  Those  words  are  so 


74  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

far  common  property  that  Burns  almost  has  lost 
his  right  to  them.  It  was  only  this  morning 
that  I  heard  your  friend  Mr.  Urquhart  trying  to 
make  my  father  talk  about  that  picture  of  me  in 
the  parlor;  he  wanted  a  chance  to  tell  a  good 
story  to  some  acquaintance,  I  suppose." 

"  Roger  is  —  "  began  George,  indignantly. 

"No,  you  must  not  blame  Roger,"  said  Mary. 
"  I  saw  you  looking  at  it  and  smiling  to  think 
how  funny  it  was." 

The  charge  was  a  true  one,  and  George  was 
confounded.  There  was  an  instant's  pause  before 
he  said,  "You  are  right,  Miss  Rogers  ;  I  did,  and 
I  am  very  sorry  for  it.  It  was  an  ungentlemanly 
thing  to  do,  and  I  am  ashamed  of  myself." 

Mary  smiled,  —  a  smile  of  pleasure  and  amuse- 
ment combined. 

"  I  think  you  could  have  given  a  better  excuse 
for  doing  it  than  that ;  namely,  that  you  could 
not  look  at  the  picture  and  keep  from  laughing. 
I  can't  help  it  myself;  but  that  does  n't  concern 
what  I  was  speaking  of.  You  have  proved  that 
we  do  not  appreciate  painting,  and  you  say  that 
we  do  not  see  the  beauties  of  Nature  ;  are  you 
trying  to  make  it  out  that  city  people  are  more 
fortunate  in  every  way,  or  do  you  allow  some 
advantages  to  us  ?  " 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  75 

"  Are  not  content  and  general  happiness  the 
especial  advantages  of  the  country  ?  It  seems 
to  me  that  I  have  read  as  much  in  some  of  the 
poetry  which  I  am  supposed  to  appreciate." 

"  Have  you  seen  so  little  of  New  England 
that  you  can  tell  me  we  are  contented  ?  Can 
you  be  a  Yankee  and  think  so  ?  I  suppose 
you  are  not  a  Yankee,  though,"  she  added. 

"  I  hope  I  am.  Certainly  I  am  proud  of  the 
title,  as  they  say,  and  always  have  looked 
on  it  as  a  sort  of  patent  of  nobility,"  said 
George. 

"  Well,  then,  don't  you  think  that  ad  astro, 
per  aspera  would  be  a  good  comprehensive  New 
England  motto  (you  see  I  know  a  little  Latin)  ? 
And  I  always  have  thought,  too,  that  we  were 
hardly  satisfied  with  the  astra  unless  we  got 
the  aspera  along  with  it.  There  is  a  verse  of  a 
hymn,  —  I  don't  know  whether  you  would  call  it 
poetry,  — 

'  Must  I  be  carried  to  the  skies 

On  flowery  beds  of  ease. 
Whilst  others  fought  to  win  the  prize, 

And  sailed  through  bloody  seas  ?  ' 

I  don't  mean  to  be  irreverent ;  but  it  seems  to 
me  that  that  is  very  good  New  England  doc- 
trine, moral  as  well  as  religious." 


76  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"You  are  right  as  usual,  Miss  Rogers,  —  right 
when  you  defended  the  country  yesterday,  as 
you  are  to-day  when  you  attack  it.  I  have 
done  my  best  to  defend  it,  and  now  I  am  very 
much  tempted  to  turn  round  and  ask  you  what 
its  advantages  are." 

"  I  '11  tell  you  one  thing  that  we  are  good  for," 
said  Mary,  —  "we  make  excellent  types.  I  see 
you  don't  understand.  Well,  you  people  in  the 
city  lead  such  a  bustling  life,  you  have  so  many 
things  to  do,  that  your  lives  are  complicated, 
you  are  not  simple,  and  so  you  are  very  indi- 
vidual and  many-sided.  Our  occupations  are  so 
much  more  alike,  and  monotonous,  perhaps,  that 
we  do  not  spread  out  in  many  directions,  and 
so,  being  simpler,  we  are  better  types  —  pat- 
terns, that  is  —  for  you  to  make  books  from." 

George  felt  the  ground  falling  away  under 
him.  Certainly  it  was  agreeable  to  talk  with  a 
handsome  girl,  but  this  one  was  pressing  him 
very  hard.  "Are  you  joking,  or  in  earnest?" 
he  said. 

"  Oh,  I  am  very  much  in  earnest,"  said  Mary. 
"  I  have  seen  type-hunters  even  in  Stapleton." 

"  Miss  Rogers,  if  you  think  —  "  began  George. 

"  If  I  thought,  Mr.  Holyoke,  that  you  were 
acting  in  that  way,  do  you  suppose  I  should 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  77 

speak  to  you  as  I  did  just  now.  If  you  had 
been  a  type-hunter,  you  would  have  compli- 
mented me  by  saying  that  my  type  was  a  very 
charming  one,  instead  of  asking  a  straightfor- 
ward question.  No  ;  it  is  because  I  am  very  sure 
that  you  are  not,  that  I  —  well,  I  suppose  I  may 
as  well  tell  the  truth.  I  have  been  called  a  type. 
True,  it  was  the  highest  type,  he  was  kind  enough 
to  say  ;  and  I  beg  your  pardon  for  having  vented 
my  feelings  on  you  who,  I  am  sure,  are  not  in 
the  least  to  blame." 

"  You  might  revenge  yourself  by  considering 
that  '  he/  whoever  he  was,  is  a  very  complete 
type  of  a  very  impertinent  snob." 

"  '  He'  was  a  summer  boarder  at  the  hotel,  and 
I  heard  him  talking  to  a  friend  of  his  as  he  walked 
behind  me  to  church.  I  could  think  whatever 
I  pleased  about  him,  but  there  was  not  much 
consolation  in  that,  and  there  was  no  one  with 
me  to  whom  I  could  tell  my  opinion  of  him  — 
even  if  it  would  have  been  womanly  to  do  so," 
she  added,  after  an  instant's  pause. 

George  was  busied  for  a  few  moments  in 
hauling  the  sheet  close  and  altering  the  boat's 
course  ;  then  he  said,  "  I  hope  you  will  excuse 
me  for  saying  so,  Miss  Rogers,  but  why  is  it 
so  disagreeable  to  be  looked  on  as  a  type  ?  It 


78  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

seems  to  me  that  I  should  enjoy  posing  in  that 
character." 

"  Oh,  the  man  was  not  really  to  blame,"  said 
Mary,  "  only  he  should  not  have  spoken  quite  so 
loud.  It  was  perfectly  natural ;  I  have  felt  the 
same  way  when  I  was  staying  at  my  aunt's  in 
the  city,  and  was  walking  about  on  Sunday  in 
the  fashionable  streets  —  for  of  course  my  aunt 
did  not  live  in  a  fashionable  street,"  she  said 
proudly.  "  They  were  full  of  people  that  I  did 
not  know,  and  as  they  walked  slowly  up  and 
down,  the  gentlemen  taking  off  their  hats  to  the 
ladies  with  a  solemn  face,  and  the  ladies  meeting 
the  gentlemen  with  a  regulation  smile,  somehow 
I  could  not  look  on  them  as  if  they  were  real 
living  people,  though  I  was  very  much  interested 
in  them." 

"  In  other  words,"  said  George,  "  that  which 
is  perfectly  proper  for  young  ladies  from  the 
country  to  do  when  they  go  to  the  city,  is  very 
improper  for  young  gentlemen  from  the  city  to 
do  when  they  come  into  the  country." 

Mary  neither  blushed  nor  smiled  ;  she  only 
looked  thoughtful,  and  it  was  some  time  before 
she  spoke.  "  I  am  afraid  that  you  are  right, 
Mr.  Holyoke.  I  wanted  very  much  to  know 
what  those  people  really  were  like,  and,  as  I 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  79 

could  not  find  out  in  any  other  way,  I  supposed 
that  to  walk  up  and  down  as  they  were  doing 
when  I  saw  them  was  somehow  typical  ;  just  as 
the  young  man  from  the  city  thought  he  knew 
something  about  me  when  he  saw  me  walking 
to  church.  I  am  wrong,  and  I  suppose  I  ought 
to  promise  I  will  not  do  it  any  more." 

"  I  have  said  that  I  should  enjoy  posing  as  a 
type.  It  would  give  me  a  sense  of  importance 
which  would  be  very  pleasant,  and  if  it  could 
afford  you  any  satisfaction  you  are  welcome  to 
study  me  in  that  character  as  much  as  you 
please." 

"  And  I  suppose  your  offer  means  that  you 
are  to  study  me  in  the  same  way.  Well,  I  don't 
know  that  I  can  object  after  what  I  have  just 
admitted." 

"  You  misconstrue  my  offer.  If  I  were  not 
averse  to  paying  compliments,  and  if  I  did  not 
believe  that  you  objected  to  hearing  them,  I 
should  say  that  to  consider  Miss  Rogers  a  type 
of  the  young  ladies  of  Stapleton  would  be  an 
undeserved  compliment  to  them." 

"  Thank  you  for  not  complimenting  me,"  said 
Mary  ;  "but  I  am  afraid  —  excuse  me  for  saying 
so  —  that  if  we  keep  on  in  this  direction  much 
longer  we  shall  be  aground." 


80  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

Bump,  bump,  bump,  g-r-r-r-r-r  —  thump,  and 
Mary's  prediction  was  verified.  The  boat  had 
stuck  hard  and  fast  on  a  sand-bar,  thereby  afford- 
ing a  moment  of  exquisite  and  unmixed  delight 
to  the  skipper  of  the  other  sail-boat,  who  had  fol- 
lowed the  roundabout  channel,  and  who  had  feared 
that  by  undeserved  good  luck  George  might  cross 
the  flats  and  reach  Stapleton  before  him. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  George,  much  dis- 
mayed. 

"Oh,  there's  nothing  to  be  sorry  about. 
There's  no  harm  done,"  said  Mary,  laughing. 
"  We  don't  consider,  down  here,  that  an  excur- 
sion is  complete  unless  we  get  aground  once  or 
twice." 

George  took  an  oar  to  shove  the  boat  off,  but 
unsuccessfully ;  she  would  not  move.  Then  he 
sprang  into  the  water,  which  was  not  much  above 
his  knees.  He  began  by  trying  to  push  the  boat 
against  the  wind  without  lowering  the  sail,  —  a 
feat  often  essayed  by  the  enthusiastic  summer 
boarder,  but  which  never  has  been  accomplished 
as  yet.  Mary  looked  on,  recognizing  this,  for  a 
minute  or  two  ;  then  she  could  bear  it  no  longer. 

"  Would  n't  she  go  off  easier  if  you  pushed  on 
the  other  side,  Mr.  Holyoke?" 

"  How  ? "  said  George,  nettled,  as  all  ignorant 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  8 1 

men  are,  on  getting  advice  from  those  who  know 
better  (it  is  only  the  wise  who  are  willing  to  be 
taught),  and  giving  another  powerful  but  futile 
shove  to  the  boat. 

"  This  way,"  said  Mary,  standing  up  and  show- 
ing him,  while  at  the  same  time  she  trimmed 
the  sail  to  aid  his  efforts.  The  boat's  head  was 
pushed  slowly  around,  and  at  last  she  started  so 
suddenly  that  George  almost  lost  his  hold,  and 
barely  scrambled  into  the  boat  wet  and  dripping. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  that  you  have  had  so  much 
trouble  on  my  account  again,"  said  Mary. 

"  Miss  Rogers,  again  I  will  eschew  flattery, 
and  will  not  tell  you  that  such  trouble  would  be 
pleasure.  I  will  say  simply  that  when  I  helped 
you  at  the  station  it  was  no  trouble  at  all,  and 
that  just  now  it  was  you  who  taught  me  how  to 
get  out  of  a  scrape ;  for  I  never  should  have  got 
away  from  that  sand-bank  if  I  had  been  alone. 
And  as  a  further  proof  of  my  humiliation,  I  must 
ask  you  to  tell  me  how  I  am  to  get  to  Stapleton ; 
for  it  seems  to  me  that  the  whole  ocean  here  is 
one  vast  shoal." 

"We  ought  to  go  in  that  direction  first,"  said 
Mary,  pointing  to  a  distant  spot  on  the  beach  ; 
"then,  in  a  moment,  we  should  keep  closer  in 
shore." 

6 


82  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"No  doubt  it  is  very  stupid  of  me,"  said 
George,  giving  voice  to  the  last  remnant  of  his 
irritation,  "  but  I  do  not  see  how  you  find  your 
way  about  here ;  it  is  very  confusing." 

"  My  father  taught  me  when  I  was  a  young 
girl,"  said  Mary,  "  and  really  I  am  quite  at  home 
in  a  boat.  You  must  not  consider  me  a  type, 
though,"  she  added,  with  a  smile.  "  We  are  not 
a  race  of  water  Amazons." 

There  was  a  pause  of  two  or  three  minutes  as 
George  strove  to  carry  out  Mary's  directions. 

"  How  well  the  music  sounds  coming  across 
the  water !  "  said  he,  breaking  the  silence.  The 
sun  had  set,  the  wind  had  died  almost  away, 
and  the  moon  was  rising  red  behind  them.  The 
other  boat,  more  skilfully  managed,  was  now  very 
near  Stapleton,  and  from  it,  over  the  water,  came 
women's  voices  singing  "  Pull  for  the  Shore," 
and  other  tunes  from  the  Moody  and  Sankey 
collection,  —  tunes  simple,  easily  learned,  so 
spirited  that  one  is  tempted  to  sing  them  on 
all  occasions,  yet  possessing  such  a  religious 
flavor  that  the  singer  believes  he  is  thereby 
training  his  soul  as  well  as  his  lungs.  The 
women's  voices  might  have  sounded  harsh  and 
nasal  if  George  had  been  with  them  ;  as  it  was, 
the  distance  made  them  soft  and  full.  He  turned 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  83 

to  Mary.  "  Will  you  not  answer  them  ? "  he 
said. 

She  began  almost  immediately  in  a  clear  con- 
tralto voice.  George  had  wondered  what  she 
would  choose ;  but  he  was  surprised  when  she 
sang  an  old  Scotch  ballad  which  he  often  had 
heard  from  his  mother  in  his  childhood.  At  the 
second  verse  George  joined  in.  The  melody 
itself  was  rather  sad  ;  and  George's  voice,  though 
neither  remarkable  nor  well  trained,  showed  his 
feeling  so  plainly,  that  Mary  turned  to  him  when 
they  had  finished,  saying  in  a  tone  of  slight  sur- 
prise :  "  I  did  not  suppose  you  had  ever  heard 
that  before  ;  I  found  it  in  an  old  music-book  lying 
under  an  old  spinet  in  my  grandfather's  house  at 
Wilson's  Neck.  I  liked  it  and  I  learned  it  ;  but 
I  had  no  idea  it  was  a  fashionable  song." 

"  It  is  n't,"  said  George.  "  I  know  it  by  heart. 
I  heard  it  from  my  mother  as  a  child." 

He  did  not  say  that  his  mother  was  dead ;  but 
from  the  way  in  which  he  spoke,  Mary  thought 
best  to  say  no  more  about  it.  They  kept  on 
in  silence  for  a  few  minutes  longer,  till  they 
reached  the  old  wharf  at  Stapleton. 

"  Can  I  help  you  tie  her  up  ? "  said  Mary, 
springing  upon  the  pier. 

"  When  the  vessel  reaches  the  wharf,  I  believe 


84  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

the  pilot's  duties  are  over,"  said  George ;  "  at  least, 
I  think  I  have  read  so  much  in  nautical  novels,  — 
I  can't  say  that  I  speak  from  experience.  Never- 
theless, if  the  pilot  would  be  so  kind  as  to  see  if 
the  able-bodied  seaman  (I  think  that  is  the  word) 
has  tied  a  knot  that  will  hold,  the  able-bodied 
seaman  will  be  grateful." 

Mary  laughed ;  when  a  voice  was  heard  out 
of  the  darkness,  farther  up  the  wharf:  "Mary 
Rogers,  is  that  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mary,  not  very  cheerfully. 

"  Well,  how  on  earth  did  you  get  over  here  ? " 
said  a  girl  somewhat  younger  than  Mary,  walking 
quickly  toward  her.  "  I  thought  you  was  going 
to  stay  over  to  Sanket  to  Adresty's." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Mary,  indignantly.  "  Adresta 
has  gone  to  her  father's,  and  I  never  thought  of 
staying  there  until  after  you  had  gone  off  and 
left  me." 

"  Well,  don't  get  mad  about  it,  Mary  !  I  guess 
you  did  n't  find  it  so  disagreeable  coming  back 
with  this  gentleman." 

They  were  walking  up  the  wharf.  Mary's 
face  was  turned  away  from  the  girl,  toward 
George,  and  he  could  see  that  at  this  her  eyes 
flashed  and  her  face  flushed,  more  with  anger 
than  with  embarrassment.  George  wished  to  save 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  85 

her  the  need  of  reply,  but  he  could  not  think  of 
the  right  thing  to  say  on  the  spur  of  the  mo- 
ment, and,  while  he  was  racking  his  brain,  Mary 
said  quietly,  "  Mr.  Holyoke  was  kind  enough  to 
bring  me  back,  but  I  am  sorry  to  have  troubled 
him,  and  you  ought  to  have  waited  for  me." 

"  I  guess  he  did  n't  mind  the  trouble  very 
much  ;  did  you  now,  Mr.  Holyoke  ? "  said  the 
girl,  with  a  slight  giggle. 

"  I  was  very  glad  to  be  of  service  to  Miss 
Rogers,"  said  George,  stiffly. 

They  had  reached  the  head  of  the  wharf,  from 
which  two  roads  led,  —  one  up  a  slight  incline  by 
Captain  Rogers's  house,  which  was  only  a  few  rods 
distant ;  the  other  to  the  left,  along  the  shore. 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me,  Miss  Rogers,"  said 
George,  turning  to  the  left,  "  I  think  I  shall  take 
a  stroll  before  coming  in." 

He  walked  away,  Mary  giving  him  a  look  of 
gratitude  as  they  separated.  He  had  not  gone 
five  steps,  before  he  heard  the  voice  of  Mary's 
companion  raised  in  remonstrance.  "Why 
did  n't  you  introduce  him,  Mary  Rogers  ?  You 
must  have  had  a  dreadful  stupid  time  com- 
ing all  the  way  with  him  from  Sanket."  When 
Mary  answered,  he  was  too  far  off  to  hear  what 
she  said. 


86  DIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

He  walked  briskly  along,  his  mind  full  of  what 
had  happened.  The  smile  which  Mary  had  given 
him  at  parting  convinced  him  that  he  had  done 
right  in  leaving  her  alone  to  contend  with  her 
friend,  and,  as  a  whole,  his  adventure  pleased 
him.  But  when  he  came  to  run  over  in  his 
mind  the  things  he  had  said  to  Miss  Rogers,  he 
was  amazed ;  he  could  not  imagine  how  he  had 
been  so  bold.  He  remembered  how  hard  it  had 
been  for  him  to  find  material  for  the  first  two  or 
three  sentences,  and  he  remembered  how  soon 
he  had  been  at  his  ease  :  nay,  more  ;  as  far  as  he 
could  judge,  he  had  gone  through  his  share  of 
the  conversation  with  credit, — almost  as  well, 
indeed,  as  Roger  or  Harry  Larkyns  could  have 
done.  True,  a  great  deal  of  the  credit  belonged 
to  Miss  Rogers,  but  he  could  not  help  taking 
some  of  it  himself.  Then  he  naturally  fell  into 
a  contemplation  of  Mary's  charms,  both  personal 
and  mental ;  and  so,  wrapped  in  pleasant  revery, 
he  strolled  along  in  the  moonlight,  forgetting 
how  the  time  passed.  But  all  reveries  have  an 
end ;  and  at  last  he  turned  back  to  the  house, 
where  he  underwent  more  raillery  from  Roger,  — 
raillery  which  he  took  very  quietly  and  easily,  for 
he  had  expected  it  ever  since  he  left  Sanket. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  87 


VI. 


r  I  ^HREE  or  four  days  passed  away.  George 
-*-  and  Roger  spent  them  on  the  water,  sailing 
and  fishing  ;  or  they  went  to  one  of  the  many 
ponds  lying  amidst  the  woods  which  surround 
Stapleton,  trolling  or  casting  a  fly  for  the  black 
bass ;  or,  best  of  all,  in  the  freshness  of  the 
early  morning,  when  the  long  summer's  day, 
shaking  off  the  dew,  arouses  himself  to  run  his 
race,  or  in  the  afternoon  when,  wearied,  he  lies 
down  to  rest,  hushed  by  the  rippling  water  and 
soothed  by  the  fragrance  of  the  woods,  they 
tempted  the  trout  from  some  dark  hole  under 
the  bank  of  a  clear  brook.  They  had  not  come 
to  Stapleton  to  train  or  to  exercise  their  minds. 
Neither  of  them  cared  for  any  society  beyond 
that  of  the  other ;  and,  even  as  to  that,  it  was 
society  rather  than  conversation  which  they 
wished,  and  often  they  were  together  for  hours 
in  their  boat,  one  sailing,  the  other  fishing,  with- 
out speaking  a  word  beyond  what  their  sport 


88  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

required.  Nevertheless,  apart  from  breakfast 
and  tea,  when  he  sat  opposite  Mary,  George 
had  seen  her  several  times  within  these  three  or 
four  days,  —  once,  when  he  had  found  her  in  the 
evening  sitting  in  the  best  parlor,  reading  Mil- 
ton, and  in  the  course  of  the  conversation  made 
the  humiliating  discovery  that  she  knew  more 
about  "  Paradise  Lost"  than  he  did  ;  again,  one 
morning,  when  he  had  risen  unusually  early,  and 
found  her  picking  flowers  for  the  breakfast-table, 
in  the  trig  little  flower-beds  beside  the  brick 
walk  leading  from  the  street  to  the  house.  It 
was  a  glorious  morning,  before  the  freshness  had 
been  rubbed  off  ;  and  she  made  such  a  pretty 
picture  rising  up  from  among  the  flowers,  with 
the  blue  water  of  the  bay  as  a  background,  that 
George  remembered  it  long  afterwards  quite  as 
distinctly  as  any  picture  in  Paris  or  Rome. 

Another  time  they  had  drifted  —  George  could 
not  tell  exactly  how  —  into  a  conversation,  al- 
most a  discussion,  about  society.  Of  society,  as 
George  was  accustomed  to  see  the  word  inter- 
preted, Mary,  of  course,  knew  little,  almost  noth- 
ing beyond  what  she  had  read.  In  her  reading 
she  could  not  always  distinguish  the  true  from 
the  false ;  and  some  of  her  mistakes  betrayed 
George's  face  into  something  so  near  a  smile, 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  89 

that  Mary  found  him  out,  and  insisted  that  her 
blunders  should  be  explained  to  her.  But  though 
she  knew  hardly  anything  of  what  society  was, 
she  had  ideas  of  what  it  ought  to  be,  all  the 
more  original  and  free  from  prejudice  because 
of  her  ignorance;  so  that  George,  who  was  at 
just  the  age  when  men  find  out  that  society  is 
built  on  very  false  principles,  welcomed  her  as  a 
kindred  spirit.  She  was  unconventional ;  not  of 
that  cheap  unconventionality  which  consists  in 
walking  through  the  gutter  in  order  to  avoid  the 
conventionality  of  the  sidewalk  :  her  ideas,  not 
her  manners,  were  original.  George  believed 
himself  rather  a  clever  man,  and  was  glad  of  the 
necessity,  which,  in  talking  with  Mary,  forced 
him  to  give  up  the  ordinary  small  talk  of  society, 
in  which  he  never  was  very  fluent,  for  conver- 
sation where  words  and  ideas  counted  for  their 
intrinsic  and  not  for  their  conventional  value. 

"  Most  of  our  talk  at  parties,"  he  said  to 
Roger  one  evening  as  they  were  smoking  in 
their  room,  "  is  like  paper  money.  By  a  fashiona- 
ble understanding,  certain  sentences  are  supposed 
to  represent  ideas ;  they  are  social  tender,  so  to 
speak,  and  there  are  so  many  of  them  that  con- 
versation is  terribly  inflated.  We  ought  to  get 
back  to  a  solid  basis  ;  it's  true  we  should  feel 


90  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

very  poor  for  a  time,  but  it  would  be  better  for 
us  in  the  long  run."  Roger  agreed  ;  but  he 
said  to  himself  that  George's  regard  for  Mary 
Rogers  was  taking  on  a  dangerous  form  which 
he  did  not  at  all  approve. 

George  had  been  four  or  five  days  in  Stapleton, 
when  one  evening  he  bethought  him  of  a  prom- 
ise he  had  made  to  write  to  his  cousin  Ann 
Brattle.  The  lamp  in  his  room  upstairs  did  not 
give  him  light  enough,  and  so  he  went  down 
into  the  parlor,  which  Mrs.  Rogers  had  left  open 
since  the  young  men  had  come  to  the  house, 
contrary  to  her  usual  fashion.  Now  that  it  was 
lived  in,  it  had  put  on,  perforce,  a  less  uncom- 
fortable look  than  when  George  saw  it  on  the 
first  morning  of  his  visit.  As  he  came  into  the 
room,  he  found  Mary  writing  at  the  table. 

"  Don't  let  me  disturb  you,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
my  duty  to  get  through.  I  hope  you  don't  find 
letter-writing  such  an  infliction  as  I  do." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  do,"  said  Mary  ;  "  I  have  owed 
this  one  for  some  time."  Her  letter  was  to  her 
cousin  in  the  city:  — 

DEAR  MARIANNE,  —  I  ought  to  have  answered  your 
last  letter  long  before  this,  and  I  must  ask  you  to  for- 
give me  for  having  put  it  off  so  long ;  really  forgive 
me,  I  mean,  so  that  you  will  write  as  if  I  had  been 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  91 

always  punctual.  I  have  been  quite  busy  for  the  last 
few  days.  I  have  my  school  to  get  ready  for,  and  we 
have  taken  two  boarders.  They  are  young  men  from 
the  city,  and  they  belong,  as  your  father  used  to  say, 
"  to  A  i  families,  and  no  mistake."  I  did  not  mean  for 
us  to  take  them  ;  but  mother  and  father  both  thought  it 
was  best,  and  you,  who  know  how  easily  I  give  up  try- 
ing to  have  my  own  way,  will  not  be  surprised  that  they 
came.  One  of  them  would  do  very  well  for  the  hero, 
or  the  villain,  of  one  of  those  novels  we  used  to  read. 
He  has  a  dark  complexion,  a  piercing  eye  ;  he  is  very 
good  looking,  is  never  at  a  loss  for  a  pretty  speech,  and 
parts  his  back  hair  most  exquisitely.  He  won  my 
mother's  heart  in  five  minutes,  and  my  father's  in  half 
an  hour.  I  do  not  like  him.  I  do  not  know  how  I  can 
explain  it  to  you,  but  he  is  rude  to  me  by  being  too 
polite  ;  he  thinks  that  I  cannot  see  the  politeness  of  a 
man's  look  or  tone  of  voice,  but  must  needs  be  treated 
to  a  stare,  or  a  high-flavored  compliment.  The  best 
thing  that  I  know  of  him  is  that  he  is  the  friend  of  our 
other  boarder,  Mr.  Holyoke,  who  is  a  very  different 
sort  of  man.  Mother  and  father  think  he  is  stuck  up, 
and  certainly  he  does  not  talk  to  them  very  much ;  but 
then,  he  never  makes  fun  of  them,  which  Mr.  Urquhart 
does  very  often.  He  has  talked  several  times  to  me, 
and  I  feel  as  if  I  knew  him  quite  well.  He  is  very 
kind,  and  I  do  not  think  he  would  hurt  the  feelings  of 
a  fly,  intentionally  ;  though,  as  he  is  rather  clumsy,  he 
might  trample  on  a  few  by  mistake,  now  and  then. 
You  know  I  always  talk  out  pretty  freely,  and  you  should 
see  Mr.  Holyoke  when  I  start  some  new  idea.  It  takes 


92 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 


him  some  little  time  to  get  his  mind  headed  in  the 
right  direction,  and  he  seems  to  have  something  like 
shyness  to  get  over  before  he  is  ready  for  action ;  then 
he  listens  to  whatever  I  have  to  say,  with  a  look  as  if 
it  was  all  very  fine,  and  was  producing  a  great  effect  on 
him,  although  he  might  not  be  able  quite  to  agree  with 
me  in  the  end.  Then  he  begins  to  talk,  and,  I  tell 
you,  he  talks  well.  He  isn't  solemn,  either,  all  the 
time ;  though  you  might  think  so  from  what  I  have 
said.  Sometimes  he  even  makes  fun  of  me  a  little  ;  but 
he  does  it  very  respectfully,  in  a  sort  of  timid  way, 
which  makes  it  all  the  funnier.  He  is  writing  a  letter 
in  the  room  now,  and  probably  is  trying  to  tell  his 
correspondent  about  me.  I  should  like  to  know  what 
he  is  saying ;  on  the  whole,  though,  I  rather  think  he 
is  treating  me  better  than  I  have  treated  him,  for  he  is 
so  very  modest  that  I  do  not  believe  he  would  even 
speak  of  me  by  my  Christian  name.  Give  my  love  to 
your  father  and  mother. 

Yours  affectionately, 

MARY  ROGERS. 


Meantime  George  was  struggling  with  his 
letter  to  Ann  Brattle.  He  did  not  write  very 
easily ;  first  he  looked  at  the  ceiling,  then  drove 
his  pen  over  the  paper  as  if  his  ideas  were  flow- 
ing too  fast  for  him,  then  again  the  stream 
suddenly  ran  dry  and  left  him  stranded  in  the 
middle  of  a  page.  At  last,  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  93 

he  rapidly  signed  his  name  and  addressed  the 
letter  to  his  cousin.     It  was  as  follows:  — 

DEAR  ANN,  —  You  ought  to  be  very  grateful  and 
thankful  to  me  on  receiving  this  letter,  for  I  assure  you 
that  I  do  not  want  to  write  it.  Now,  where  is  the  sat- 
isfaction in  getting  a  letter  which  some  one  has  written 
to  you  for  his  own  amusement?  Whereas,  a  letter 
which  involves  a  sacrifice  in  the  writing,  —  there  is  a 
compliment  for  you.  Seriously,  my  cousin  asked  me 
to  write  to  her,  and,  as  I  believe  she  wishes  to  hear  from 
me,  while  it  is  always  pleasant  to  me  to  hear  from  her, 
I  am  writing ;  but  she  must  not  expect  a  long  or  an 
interesting  letter.  We  are  settled  at  Stapleton,  and 
loafing  energetically.  We  are  not  at  the  hotel,  but  at  a 
house  in  the  village,  which  is  much  more  comfortable. 
We  get  up  early  in  the  morning,  —  very  early,  I  assure 
you, — and  do  nothing  in  particular  all  day  long.  Never- 
theless, I  am  enjoying  myself,  and  like  the  life.  Hoping 
that  you  are  to  pay  a  visit  to  JVIrs.  Standish  later  in  the 
summer,  when  I  may  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you, 

I  am 

Your  affectionate  cousin, 

GEORGE  HOLYOKE. 

Looking  up  after  he  had  addressed  the  letter, 
George  saw  that  Mary  also  had  finished,  and  was 
reading.  She  did  not  seem  absorbed  in  her 
book,  for,  on  hearing  him  move,  she  looked  up 
and  caught  his  eye,  then  smiled  and  turned 
again  to  her  reading.  George  spoke,  however. 


94  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  Is  it  Milton  again,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Mary,  closing  the  book.  "A  novel 
that  I  got  from  the  library  to-day.  A  modern 
English  society  novel,  I  believe  they  call  it." 

"  A  library  !  "  said  George.  "  Have  you  a 
library  in  Stapleton  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  a  very  good  one.  An  old  whaling 
captain  who  had  made  a  good  deal  of  money 
and  never  was  married,  left  the  larger  part  of 
what  belonged  to  him  to  found  a  town  library. 
It 's  rather  a  grand  thing  to  do  ;  don't  you  think 
so,  Mr.  Holyoke  ?  He  had  had  just  a  little  com- 
mon schooling  when  he  was  a  child,  I  suppose  ; 
but  he  followed  the  sea  from  the  time  when  he  was 
a  boy  of  thirteen  until  he  was  too  old  for  work. 
He  must  have  got  very  little  good  out  of  books 
in  his  life  ;  and  yet  he  knew  so  well  what  they 
were  worth,  that  he  left  all  his  money  to  buy 
them." 

"  When  your  father  has  been  speaking,"  said 
George,  "  I  often  have  thought  how  much  the 
whalers  are  like  the  old  Norse  sea-kings.  Most 
seamen,  even  though  they  are  on  the  sea  the 
larger  part  of  their  lives,  always  are  sailing 
straight  from  port  to  port ;  but  the  whalers  are 
like  the  vikings,  —  they  live  in  their  ships,  and  go 
where  the  booty  is  the  richest.  They  go  ashore 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  95 

now  and  then,  only  when  they  have  more  spoil 
aboard  than  their  ships  will  hold.  The  vikings, 
too,  used  to  found  convents  with  their  plun- 
der, and  they  would  stand  for  a  town  library,  I 
suppose." 

"  I  rather  think,  though,"  said  Mary,  "  that 
the  vikings  built  those  convents  for  their  own 
good,  while  old  Captain  Farley  left  his  money 
for  that  of  other  people.  Captain  Farley  would 
be  surprised,  and  I  am  afraid  he  would  be 
shocked,"  she  went  on,  "  if  he  could  see  what 
books  his  money  is  used  to  buy,  —  a  good 
deal  as  your  vikings  would  have  been,  if 
they  had  come  to  see  the  convents  fifty  years 
afterward." 

"  Yes,"  said  Roger,  who  had  just  come  into 
the  room,  "  the  captain's  idea  of  literature  con- 
sisted of  good  sound  positive  theological  trea- 
tises for  a  solid  basis,  and  a  light  superstructure 
of  sermons  with  an  occasional  poem  about  the 
place  we  don't  want  to  go  to,  by  way  of  belles 
lettres,  I  suppose.  Don't  you  think,  Miss  Rogers, 
it  is  rather  anomalous  that  the  new  books  of  a 
library  should  be  the  very  ones  that  the  old 
books  caution  everybody  against  reading ;  or 
do  you  look  on  each  as  a  safe  antidote  for  the 
other  ? " 


96  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  You  don't  do  justice  to  the  people  who  lived 
in  Captain  Farley's  time,"  said  Mary.  "  Long 
before  that,  nearly  a  hundred  years  ago,  we  had 
a  circulating  library  in  Stapleton.  I  suppose 
that  people  did  n't  read  books  for  amusement 
then  as  much  as  they  do  now,  but  the  library 
took  travels  and  essays,  and  now  and  then  even 
what  I  suppose  we  should  call  a  novel ;  they 
generally  called  it  a  tale." 

"  Miss  Rogers,  allow  me  humbly  to  apologize. 
Hereafter  I  promise  that  I  will  remember  Staple- 
ton  in  seventeen  hundred  and  eighty  as  an  oasis 
in  an  intellectual  desert,  as  a  beacon  of  civilization 
to  mankind.  I  hope  so  humble  a  recantation 
satisfies  you." 

"  No  ;  for  they  had  libraries  just  like  that  in 
a  good  many  of  the  other  villages,"  said  Mary, 
trying  to  look  amused,  but  without  very  good 
success.  Then  turning  round  so  as  to  face 
Roger,  she  went  on  :  "  After  all,  Mr.  Urquhart, 
we  don't  read  books  for  the  sake  of  the  books 
themselves,  but  because  we  are  to  be  helped  by 
them,  I  suppose ;  and  our  grandfathers  turned 
out  pretty  well.  I  don't  know,  though,"  she 
said,  pausing,  "  whether  you  are  as  proud  of 
your  Yankee  blood  as  Mr.  Holyoke  is." 

The  speech  was  unfortunate.     Roger's  grand- 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  97 

father  had  been  a  Scotchman,  without  money, 
education,  or  position,  but  with  all  the  thrift 
and  all  the  shrewdness  which  tradition  allots  to 
his  race.  He  had  come  to  this  country  a  poor 
boy ;  had  married,  when  in  middle  life,  a  wife  of 
better  social  position  than  his  own  ;  and  had  died 
respected  by  every  one,  mourned  by  long  obitu- 
ary notices  in  the  daily  papers,  and  leaving  to 
his  son,  still  a  very  young  man,  money  enough 
to  enter  the  fashionable  race  with  a  good 
chance  of  getting  well  toward  the  front  in 
thirty  years  or  so,  if  he  made  the  most  of 
himself  in  the  mean  time.  That  son,  Roger's 
father,  went  to  college,  married,  soon  after  he 
graduated,  a  young  lady  who  would  make  his 
children  the  relatives  of  two  thirds  of  their 
polite  acquaintance,  and  being  so  fortunate  as 
to  have  neither  brother,  sister,  uncle,  nor  aunt, 
died  in  the  odor  of  fashion,  leaving  Roger  his 
only  child.  Roger  had  the  good  sense  not  to 
claim  descent  from  Mac  Diarmid  FitzUrquhart, 
a  distinguished  nobleman  and  brigand  of  the 
time  of  Robert  Bruce,  and  so  escaped  being 
called  an  upstart ;  still,  it  was  not  pleasant  to 
have  his  birth  compared  with  that  of  George 
Holyoke,  whose  ancestors  had  been  parsons, 
judges,  and  governors  of  the  Puritan  colony 
7 


98  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

under  the  Georges.  He  was  nettled,  and  yet 
could  not  speak  out  what  he  felt,  when  the  girl 
whom  George  had  seen  at  the  wharf  on  the 
night  of  his  return  from  Sanket  came  into  the 
room.  Mary  rose  to  receive  her  ;  but  after  get- 
ting well  past  the  threshold,  Miss  Jane  Thomas 
suddenly  stopped,  with  an  appearance  of  much 
confusion. 

"  Oh,  dear  me,  Mary,  I  did  n't  know  as  you 
had  company !    I  saw  a  light  in   the   window, 
and  just  ran  over  for  a  minute.     Mother's  gone 
to  class-meetin' ;  but  "  —  with  an  arch  look  — 
"  mebbe  I  'd  better  go  home." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Mary,  with  some  harshness 
in  her  tone  in  spite  of  herself.  "  Sit  down,  Jane. 
I  am  glad  to  see  you." 

As  Jane  evidently  had  made  up  her  mind  to 
stay,  Mary  presented  to  her  both  George  and 
Roger  with  as  much  grace  as  she  could  com- 
mand. George  had  intended  to  leave  the  room ; 
but  Roger  had  decided,  in  the  first  place,  that 
his  friend  should  stay,  and,  in  the  second  place, 
that  he  should  talk  to  Jane.  An  accomplished 
ball-room  tactician,  he  probably  would  have 
been  able  to  carry  out  his  plans  against  the 
wishes  of  all  three  of  his  companions,  but,  to 
his  surprise,  Mary  came  to  his  assistance,  and 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  99 

George  found  himself  face  to  face  with  Miss 
Thomas. 

She  did  not  greatly  care  which  of  the  young 
men  fell  to  her,  and  though  she  generously  would 
have  surrendered  to  Mary  the  hero  of  the  moon- 
light excursion  from  Sanket,  she  took  what  the 
gods  gave  her,  and  was  content.  George,  per- 
haps, was  disgusted  in  spirit ;  but  Mary  admired 
him  for  the  look  of  somewhat  helpless  cour- 
tesy with  which  he  met  Jane's  greetings.  Jane 
Thomas  was  a  plump  but  rather  sallow  young 
woman,  with  sandy  hair,  small  bright  eyes,  and  a 
shrill  piercing  voice.  If  George  was  at  a  loss 
how  to  begin  the  conversation,  at  least  she  saved 
him  the  awkwardness  of  a  pause. 

"  Two  's  enough  and  three 's  too  many,  they 
say,  Mr.  Holyoke,  don't  they  ?  " 

"  I  believe  they  do,"  said  George. 

"  Then  you  'd  ought  to  be  thankful  to  me  for 
coming,  had  n't  you  ?  For  you  were  three  when  I 
got  here,  and  now  we  're  two  twos,  which  is  twice 
as  good  as  one  two,  I  guess.  There,  I  've  been 
paying  compliments  to  myself,  and  self-praise 
goes  but  little  ways." 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,"  said  George,  vaguely  wonder- 
ing what  the  proper  answer  was. 

"  Well,  you 're  very  kind,  I'm  sure;  and  how 


100  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

do  you  like  Stapleton  ?  I  suppose  it  does  n't 
seem  very  much  of  a  place  after  the  city  ;  but  we 
think  considerable  of  it.  There's  some  pretty 
girls  in  it,  any  way,  ain't  there  ? "  with  a  nod 
toward  Mary. 

"Yes,"  said  George,  thinking  it  his  duty  to 
imply  by  a  motion  of  his  head  that  Miss  Thomas 
was  of  the  number.  She  blushed  and  giggled, 
pretending  to  study  the  carpet ;  but  she  did  not 
think  it  necessary  to  take  very  much  notice  of 
the  compliment,  for  she  looked  up  in  an  instant, 
and  began  again  with  great  vivacity,  — 

"  There,  Mr.  Holyoke,  I  'd  almost  forgotten. 
Won't  you  come  and  sing  in  our  church  choir  ? 
I  heard  you  singing  with  Mary  the  other  night 
on  the  water.  We  need  you  to  sing,  for  most  of 
our  young  men  are  away  in  the  summer.  I  like 
men's  voices  so  much.  Mary  goes,  and  it's 
very  good  fun  up  in  the  choir." 

"I  really  have  no  voice,"  said  George,;  "but 
if—" 

"  That  '11  do,  that  '11  do,"  said  Jane  ;  "  and  mind 
you,  Mr.  Holyoke,  you  must  n't  pay  all  your 
attention  to  Mary ;  I  shall  expect  part  of  it,  — 
quite  a  good  part,  too." 

George  bowed,  and  tried  to  smile  and  to  look 
pleased.  He  seemed  to  succeed,  for  Miss  Thomas 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  ioi 

went  on  with  fresh  vigor  :  "  Yes,  you  'd  really 
better,  for  you  know  Mary  —  there,  there 's 
mother  just  going  into  the  house.  She  '11 
wonder  where  I  am.  I  must  go  home  right 
off."  And  she  rose  to  leave.  ' 

Meantime  Roger  and  Mary  were  talking  to- 
gether on  the  other  side  of  the  table.  Roger  had 
had  time,  before  he  sat  down,  to  cover  up  the 
traces  of  his  momentary  vexation,  and  it  was  in 
rather  a  languid  tone  that  he  spoke  to  Mary. 

"  Of  course  it  is  de  rigueur,  Miss  Rogers,  to 
admire  the  Puritans,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing ; 
but  sometimes  I  feel  myself  strongly  inclined  to 
uplift  my  voice  against  worshipping  them,  don't 
you  ? " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  Mary.  "  How  ? 
I  am  afraid  that  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  Why,  this,"  said  Roger.  "  What  did  they  do, 
after  all  ?  They  came  to  a  bleak  climate  for  the 
sake  of  satisfying  what  I  suppose  we  all  should 
agree  was  an  over-scrupulous  conscience.  At 
least,  that  was  the  reason  which  they  gave;  I 
always  believed  that  they  came  to  get  the  chance 
of  burning,  torturing,  and  generally  maltreating 
other  people  rather  more  cruelly  than  they  them- 
selves had  been  maltreated  in  England.  And 
what  did  they  gain  by  it  ?  Were  they  any 


102  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

happier  for  it  all  —  or  are  we  ?  Go  through  any 
little  Italian  town  and  see  the  people  there, 
basking  in  the  sun,  enjoying  their  own  exist- 
ence, if  they  have  nothing  else  to  enjoy.  Of 
course,  if  Miss  Rogers  undertakes  the  defence 
of  the  Puritans,  it  is  useless  for  me  to  contend 
with  her ;  but  I  wished  to  offer  these  few  con- 
siderations to  her  before  she  gave  judgment, 
and  to  beg  her  to  do  justice  to  my  friends  the 
Italians,  with  whose  beauty  she  is  endowed  so 
richly.  If  she  decides  against  me,  of  course  I 
submit,  as  I  did  before." 

He  spoke  the  last  words  in  that  tone  of  exag- 
gerated compliment  which  Mary  had  complained 
of  in  the  letter  she  had  just  written,  and  it  was 
with  some  spirit  that  she  answered  :  "  As  one  of 
the  common  people  of  America,  Mr.  Urquhart, 
I  will  not  allow  that  the  people  of  a  little 
Italian  town  are  better  off  than  those  of  a  little 
American  one." 

"  I  am  sure  that  Miss  Rogers  will  pardon  me 
if  I  protest  against  the  truth  of  her  first  state- 
ment, and  I  hope  she  will  be  so  good  as  to 
explain  to  me  in  what  respect  the  Americans 
are  the  better  off,"  said  Roger,  in  his  blandest 
tones. 

"  Why,  we  are  better  fed,  better  clothed,  and 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  103 

more  civilized  ;  yes,  and  we  are  better  taught, 
too,  though  I  say  it,  who  am  a  school-teacher," 
said  Mary,  smiling. 

"No  doubt.  But  how  are  we  the  better  off, 
if,  in  spite  of  all  our  advantages,  as  we  call 
them,  they  are  happier  than  we  ?  Does  n't  it 
look  as  if  our  advantages  were  drawbacks  in 
disguise  ?  What  good  does  our  civilization,  — 
yes,  and  honesty  forces  me  to  add,  what  good 
does  even  our  schooling  do  for  us,  without 
enjoyment  ? " 

He  spoke  with  a  mocking  inflection  that  ex- 
asperated Mary  past  endurance. 

"What  good  would  our  enjoyment  do  for  us 
if  we  were  like  beasts  ?  Mr.  Urquhart,  of  course 
you  are  joking,"  —  Roger  made  a  sign  of  protest, 
but  she  went  on  as  if  she  did  not  see  it,  — "  so,  in 
the  same  kind  of  joke  I  must  ask  you  why  my 
father's  pig  is  n't  a  good  deal  better  off  than 
your  Italians  ;  for  his  life  seems  to  be  one  of  per- 
fect enjoyment,  while  I  suppose  that  even  the 
Italians  have  thoughts  to  trouble  them  some- 
times. They  enjoy  their  own  existence  if  they 
have  nothing  else  to  enjoy;  he  goes  one  step 
farther,  and  enjoys  it  because  he  has  nothing 
else  to  enjoy." 

Roger  looked  surprised,  but  he  had  only  time 


104  DIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

to  say,  "Very  true  ;  suppose  we  continue  the  dis- 
cussion on  that  basis,"  when  he  was  interrupted 
by  Jane's  rising  to  go. 

"  Good  evening,  Mary,"  she  said,  going  up  to 
her.  "  I  've  persuaded  Mr.  Holyoke  to  sing  in 
the  choir.  I  wish  —  the  other  gentleman  would 
join  too." 

"  How  could  I,  when  you  have  wounded  my 
feelings  so  deeply  by  forgetting  even  my  name  ?  " 
said  Roger. 

"  I  have  n't  forgotten  yours  any  more  than 
you  have  mine,"  said  Jane,  blushing,  but  trying 
to  put  a  good  face  on  it. 

"Miss  Thomas,  how  can  you  accuse  me  of 
forgetting  a  name  so  deeply  graven  on  my 
memory  ? " 

"  Well,  then,  you  '11  come  ?  "  said  Jane,  think- 
ing it  best  to  drop  the  discussion. 

"  No,"  said  Roger,  hastily,  "  I  can't  sing. 
Besides,"  he  went  on,  as  he  followed  her  to 
the  door,  "I  look  forward  with  so  much 
pleasure  to  hearing  Miss  Thomas  and  the 
rest  of  the  choir,  that  I  cannot  bring  myself 
to  give  it  up ;  I  am  sure  I  do  not  wish  to  mar 
the  harmony." 

"  Mr.  Holyoke,"  said  Mary,  as  Roger  left  the 
room,  speaking  with  a  little  hesitation,  "  I  hope 


DIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  105 

you  will  not  feel  obliged  to  sing  in  church 
to-morrow.  I  can  make  an  excuse  for  you  very 
well ;  Jane  should  not  have  urged  you  so." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  her  for  asking 
me,"  said  George.  "  Why  should  you  think  that 
I  was  not  sincere  in  accepting  her  offer  ?" 


106  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 


VII. 

IT  may  be  that  George  had  purposed  in  his 
heart  to  walk  to  church  with  Mary  on  the 
following  morning  ;  if  so,  he  was  disappointed, 
for  she  left  the  house  long  before  the  hour. 
Accordingly,  he  started  as  late  as  possible, 
wishing  to  make  sure  that  she  should  reach  the 
meeting-house  before  him,  and  thus  save  him 
the  awkwardness  of  finding  no  one  whom  he 
knew  in  the  choir. 

The  meeting-house,  which  was  about  half  a 
mile  off,  was  a  proof  of  the  length  of  time  that  a 
fashion  remains  fixed  in  men's  minds  long  after 
its  cause  is  gone.  The  building  was  wooden,  of 
course,  painted  white,  with  green  blinds  ;  but,  as 
far  as  the  architect's  means  would  allow,  it  was 
modelled  after  a  stone  English  church  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  It  had  pointed  windows, 
although  pointed  windows  are  not  easy  to  build 
n  wood,  besides  being  neither  useful  nor  orna- 
mental ;  and  the  little  square  belfry,  which  was 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  IO/ 

in  place  of  a  spire,  with  the  four  little  wooden 
peaks  at  its  four  corners,  looked  as  like  one  of 
the  great  Gothic  towers  of  York  minster  as  a 
child's  attempt  to  imitate  them  with  toy  blocks 
would  have  done.  It  would  be  hard  to  make 
out  whether  the  design  had  come  into  the 
builder's  mind  as  the  outermost  ripple  of  the 
great  Gothic  revival  of  fifty  years  ago,  or,  after 
lying  hidden  through  generations  of  Puritan  an- 
cestors who  believed  that  the  Lord  should  be 
the  only  glory  of  His  temple,  a  distorted  mem- 
ory of  some  old  village  church  in  England  had 
struggled  to  the  light. 

Inside,  the  pews  were  well  filled  with  the  vil- 
lage people,  a  thoughtful,  careworn  race,  a  large 
proportion  of  them  women  and  children,  with 
two  or  three  gray-haired  men,  still  rugged  and 
strong,  who  had  left  the  sea,  and  a  few  others  of 
all  ages,  looking  white  and  weak  beside  them, — 
the  painter,  the  carpenter,  the  shoemaker,  and  the 
storekeeper  of  Stapleton.  In  the  little  wooden 
loft  opposite  the  pulpit  a  half-dozen  girls,  with 
an  old  man  and  two  boys,  constituted  the  choir, 
which  was  accompanied  by  something  that  George 
thought  he  heard  called  a  "seraphim,"  but 
which  belied  its  name  and  looked  like  a  small' 
cabinet  organ.  Mary  was  there,  and  greeted 


108  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

George  with  a  smile ;  but  she  was  so  placed  that 
he  could  not  sit  beside  her,  and  he  -fell  an  easy 
victim  to  Miss  Thomas,  who  rose  to  welcome 
him  with  fervor,  —  considerable,  indeed,  but,  as  he 
thought,  somewhat  moderated  from  that  of  the 
day  before.  By  her  he  was  placed  beside  a  girl 
of  seventeen  or  eighteen  to  whom  he  was  intro- 
duced. Now  an  introduction,  under  the  circum- 
stances, George  felt  to  be  rather  awkward.  As 
a  rule,  you  are  expected  to  make  a  few  remarks 
to  the  lady  to  whom  you  are  presented ;  but  an 
exception  prevails  when  the  presentation  takes 
place  in  church.  Whether  a  choir,  out  of  sight 
of  the  congregation,  who  sit  with  their  backs 
toward  you,  where  there  is  whispering  more  or 
less  subdued,  follows  the  general  rule  or  the 
exception,  may  well  be  thought  doubtful.  How- 
ever, George  essayed  a  remark  on  the  weather, 
as  a  feeler  ;  it  was  answered  quietly,  but  in  such 
a  way  that  he  felt  himself  free  to  follow  his  own 
ideas  of  decorum,  and  be  silent.  He  thought  his 
companion  looked  relieved  as  he  did  so. 

In  a  few  moments  the  minister  arose,  and  gave 
out  the  hymn  before  Miss  Thomas  had  finished 
her  conversation  with  the  half-grown  boy  who 
sat  next  her.  The  choir,  of  course,  rose  also, 
George's  companion  shyly  offering  him  a  share 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  109 

of  her  music-book.  For  this  rising  he  was  pre- 
pared ;  but  he  wished  to  sit  down  again,  when, 
to  his  surprise,  the  whole  congregation  turned 
their  backs  on  the  minister,  as  if  his  importance 
had  left  him  for  the  time  being,  and  faced  the 
choir,  giving  to  the  singers  all  the  attention,  if 
not  all  the  respect,  they  gave  to  their  pastor. 
However,  the  tune  was  simple,  and  George 
struggled  through  it  with  success  enough  to 
win  an  approving  word  from  Jane  Thomas  at  its 
close.  But  it  was  not  until  the  hymn  immedi- 
ately before  the  sermon  that,  inspirited  by  Mary's 
voice,  which  rang  out  clear  above  the  nasal  tones 
of  the  other  singers,  George  himself  sang  so  well, 
that  Jane  said,  with  a  generosity  which  she  fully 
recognized,  as  the  congregation  settled  down 
into  their  seats  and  turned  toward  the  minister, 
"You'll  be  a  great  gain  to  us,  Mr.  Holyoke ;  I 
guess  you  and  Mary  '11  have  to  sing  a  duet  for 
us  next  Sunday." 

After  a  long  and  rather  tedious  sermon  from 
the  well-meaning  minister,  George  walked  home 
beside  Mary,  who  apparently  did  not  wish  to 
elude  him  now.  They  had  gone  a  few  steps  in 
silence,  when  she  turned  to  him  and  said,  with 
the  remains  of  some  embarrassment,  "  Mr. 
Holyoke,  it  is  very  hard  to  speak  so  of  one's 


HO  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

friend,  and  I  don't  know  whether  I  ought  to 
speak,  but  I  am  very  sorry ;  I  feel  that  I  ought 
to  apologize  for  the  way  that  Miss  Jane  Thomas 
treated  you  yesterday." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  said  George,  smiling. 
"  I  thought  she  treated  me  very  well  indeed." 

"  You  know  what  I  mean,"  said  Mary,  flush- 
ing a  little.  "  You  ought  not  to  make  me  ex- 
plain; and  I  was  very  much  obliged — it  was 
very  kind  of  you  to  take  her  as  you  did.  She  is 
a  very  good  girl,  too,"  Mary  went  on,  more  has- 
tily. "  You  have  no  idea  how  kind  she  has  been 
to  me  in  many  ways.  I  would  not  have  you  for 
the  world  think  I  am  betraying  her ;  it  is  only 
in  her  manners." 

"  You  exaggerate  her  manners,"  said  George, 
whose  face  had  lost  its  smile  the  moment  Mary 
began  to  reply. 

"  Perhaps  I  do.  At  any  rate,  I  hope  you  will 
believe  that  she  is  very  good-hearted." 

"  It  would  be  hard  for  me  to  believe  anything 
else  of  one  of  Miss  Rogers's  friends,"  said  George, 
earnestly. 

"  What  a  pretty  compliment !  And  don't  you 
want  to  turn  it  into  a  compliment  to  yourself, 
Mr.  Holyoke,  by  calling  yourself  my  friend,  and 
telling  me  how  I  have  offended  Mr.  Urquhart  ? 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  in 

For  I  must  have  offended  him  in  some  way  last 
night ;  he  pretended  to  be  indifferent,  but  there 
was  something  that  hurt  him." 

"  Of  course  you  did  not  mean  it,"  said  George, 
who  could  not  help  smiling ;  "  but  it  was  a  little 
—  unfortunate  —  when  you  asked  him  if  he  were 
not  proud  of  his  Yankee  blood." 

"  If  it  was  unfortunate,"  said  Mary,  with  spirit, 
"  it  was  you  who  misled  me,  Mr.  Holyoke,  by 
saying  that  you  were  proud  of  it.  I  do  not  care 
either,"  she  went  on,  without  giving  George  a 
chance  to  speak;  "if  he  is  ashamed  of  it,  he 
deserves  to  be  reminded  of  it.  It  is  good  blood, 
as  good  as  any  in  the  world  ;  and  if  they  call  us 
Yankees  in  ridicule,  we  ought  not  to  grudge  our 
enemies  the  benefit  of  a  laugh,  for  that  is  pretty 
much  all  they  can  get  out  of  us." 

"  You  misunderstand  me,"  said  George,  as  soon 
as  he  could  put  in  a  word.  "  If  Roger  had  had 
good  Yankee  blood,  he  would  have  been  proud 
of  it,  I  dare  say  ;  but  Roger,  though  a  thorough 
gentleman  himself,  does  not  belong  to  a  very 
old  family  ;  his  grandfather  was  a  Scotchman, 
and  —  " 

"And  so  he  did  not  like  to  have  his  family 
compared  to  yours,  which  even  a  country  girl 
like  myself  knows  about.  I  was  very  unjust ; 


1 1 2  SIMPL Y  A  LOVE-STOR Y. 

and  although,  of  course,  I  did  not  know  it  when 
I  spoke,  I  am  very  sorry,  and  I  would  tell  him 
so  if  it  were  not  that  I  should  make  the  matter 
worse.  Well,  it  always  has  seemed  strange  to 
me  that  a  man  should  value  his  ancestors  the 
more,  the  farther  off  they  are  from  him.  I  had 
rather  be  the  son  of  a  great  man  than  his  great- 
great-grandson  ;  but  you  must  excuse  me  for  not 
appreciating  these  distinctions,  Mr.  Holyoke." 

They  had  reached  the  house  and  now  sepa- 
rated, Mary  speaking  to  herself  in  a  low  tone, 
as  she  went  upstairs  to  her  room  :  "  So  Mr. 
Urquhart  does  not  belong  to  an  old  family  like 
yours.  I  would  not  have  believed  that  it  made 
such  a  difference." 

George  walked  up  to  Roger,  who  was  lying  on 
the  grass  just  in  front  of  the  house,  in  the  shade. 
of  a  tree,  reading  his  letters. 

"  You  must  be  a  better  correspondent  than  I 
am,  Roger,  if  you  have  deserved  your  luck,"  said 
he,  throwing  himself  down  beside  his  friend,  and 
looking  at  two  or  three  empty  envelopes  strewn 
about  on  the  ground.  "  How  is  it  possible 
that  the  propriety  of  Stapleton  allows  a  Sunday 
mail  ? " 

"They  receive  it  on  Saturday  night  too  late 
for  any  one  to  go  for  it,  and  so  relieve  their 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  113 

consciences  while  they  read  their  letters  on  Sun- 
day morning.  By  the  by,  Harry  Larkyns  writes 
me  that  he  is  coming  down  to  the  Standishes 
in  a  week  or  so  ;  they  are  to  have  quite  a  party 
staying  with  them." 

"  Are  they  ? "  said  George.  "  Which  shall  we 
try  to-morrow,  the  brook  or  the  pond  ? " 

"  The  pond  —  no  —  I  don't  care  which ;  George, 
I  have  some  news  you  will  be  very  sorry  to  hear. 
John  Heston  has  come  to  grief." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  said  George,  raising 
himself  upon  his  elbow. 

"  You  know  he  went  farming  out  West  in  some 
heathenish  place,  —  and  a  great  fool  such  a  man 
as  he  was  to  do  anything  of  the  sort ;  now  he  has 
married  the  daughter  of  one  of  his  neighbors, — 
some  country  bumpkin,  I  suppose." 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  with  the  girl  ? "  said 
George. 

"  Matter  with  her  ?  Why,  I  should  say  it  was 
a  very  considerable  matter  for  a  clever  fellow 
like  Heston  to  marry  a  girl  of  that  sort ! " 

"  Of  what  sort  ?  Do  you  know  anything  against 
her  ? " 

"Against  her?  No;  in  one  sense  I  know  noth- 
ing about  her.  But  come,  George,  you  know  what 
I  mean.  Think  what  the  bridegroom's  state  of 
8 


114  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

mind  will  be  before  the  honeymoon  is  over, — 
about  the  time  he  becomes  really  acquainted 
with  Mrs.  H." 

"  Why,  she  may  be  a  very  nice  sort  of  girl,  I 
suppose,  may  she  not  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course  she  may  be  an  angel  from 
heaven  ;  but  not  even  an  angel  could  play  her 
part  in  modern  society  if  she  were  not  brought 
up  to  it." 

"  Society  thanks  you  for  the  compliment;  but 
possibly  John  Heston  prefers  his  wife's  society 
to  that  of  the  world." 

"  He  may  think  he  does ;  but  be  serious,  George. 
Suppose  she  is  good  and  beautiful,  as  they  say 
of  the  fairy  princess;  still,  how  can  a  cultivated 
man  like  Heston  bear  the  living  all  his  life,  if 
he  is  so  unfortunate  as  to  have  a  long  one,  with 
a  woman  who,  in  spite  of  her  goodness,  can 
have  scarcely  a  taste  or  feeling  in  common  with 
him,  and  who  will,  of  the  mere  necessity  of  the 
case,  shut  him  off  from  all  society  except  that  of 
her  friends,  who  must  be  as  uncouth  as  she  is, 
and  may  not  be  so  good  ? " 

"  I  have  n't  the  good  fortune  to  know  Mrs. 
Heston,  and  perhaps  she  is  as  utterly  savage  as 
you  seem  to  think  ;  but  I  suppose  there  may  be 
here  and  there  in  the  West  a  woman  who  is  not 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  115 

entirely  uneducated,  and  who  could,  with  a  little 
experience,  enter  even  the  society  that  gathers 
round  the  gilded  dome.  So  accomplished  a 
woman-hater  as  you  are,  Roger,  will  agree  with 
me  if  I  say  that  she  can't  be  very  much  behind 
some  of  the  people  she  would  meet  there,"  said 
George,  smiling  on  his  friend's  vexation. 

"  Of  course  there  are  exceptions  to  every  rule, 
or  there  would  be  no  crimes  or  mistakes  in  the 
world ;  if  every  little  boy  who  ate  green  apples 
had  to  take  a  dose  of  medicine,  and  no  ostrich- 
stomached  youngster  ever  escaped,  the  mortality 
among  children  would  lessen.  Does  it  strike 
you  as  altogether  prudent,  when  one  man  in  a 
hundred  who  jumps  out  of  a  fourth-story  win- 
dow reaches  the  ground  without  even  breaking 
his  leg,  for  me  to  follow  his  example  because  that 
one  man  found  that  the  jump  gave  him  an  excit- 
ing, and,  on  the  whole,  a  pleasant  sensation  ? " 

"  I  did  not  say  I  was  glad  to  hear  that  John 
Heston  was  married ;  but  I  do  not  think,  after 
I  had  seen  you  jump  out  of  the  window,  that  I 
should  retire  to  write  your  obituary  without  wait- 
ing to  hear  what  had  happened  to  you." 

"  I  am  willing  to  write  John  Heston's  obituary 
on  the  risk,"  said  Roger.  "  Come,  take  an  exam- 
ple. You  hardly  could  find  a  more  promising 


Il6  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

specimen  than  our  host's  daughter,  could  you, 
—  so  pretty  as  almost  to  be  handsome,  rather 
graceful,  with  a  pleasing  voice,  and  much  better 
educated  than  the  average,  at  least?  Is  it  likely 
that  Heston  or  any  other  man  could  do  better, 
if  he  were  to  marry  so  much  beneath  him,  than 
to  take  her  ? " 

"  Miss  Rogers  is  very  charming,"  said  George. 

"Very  charming;  almost  fascinating  enough 
to  entrap  a  man  who  was  young  and  spooney, 
but  —  " 

"You  are  not  just  to  her,"  said  George,  sternly, 
"in  insinuating  that  she  would  entrap  anybody." 

"No,  certainly  not,"  said  Roger,  hastily.  "I 
used  the  wrong  word.  She  would  not  entrap 
him  ;  but  of  course  she  would  be  glad  of  the 
chance  to  marry  such  a  man,  or  she  has  not 
half  the  stuff  or  the  ambition  I  think  there  is 
in  her.  The  more  of  a  woman  she  is,  the  more 
superior  she  is  to  her  present  position,  the  more 
eagerly  she  would  seize  on  a  chance  to  change 
it.  But  how  pleasant  it  would  be  for  her  hus- 
band to  present  his  wife's  friends  to  his  own, 
Miss  Jane  Thomas  to  Miss  Clara  Ellison,  for 
example;  or,  to  speak  perfectly  frankly, — for  of 
course  you  know  that  I  care  nothing  about  it,— 
how  agreeably  you  would  feel  if  your  wife  were 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  117 

to  ask  such  an  unfortunate  question  of  another 
lady  as  she  asked  of  me  last  evening  ! " 

"  Of  course,  she  knew  no  better,  Roger ;  in- 
deed, she  said  that  she  was  very  sorry,  and  that 
she  would  like  to  apologize  now  that  she  knew 
what  she  had  done." 

"  She  did,  did  she  ?  I  am  sure  I  am  very 
much  obliged  to  her.  Of  course  she  did  not 
know  what  she  was  saying.  I  would  have  for- 
given her  on  the  spot  if  I  had  thought  she  did 
mean  it,  for  it  would  have  been  the  most  deli- 
ciously  acute  question  I  have  heard  for  some 
time,  and  I  think  I  almost  deserved  it.  Indeed, 
if  it  had  not  been  accidental,  it  would  have  gone 
far  to  show  that  I  am  wrong,  and  that  she  is 
capable  of  filling  a  place  in  society.  To  speak 
plainly,  George,  she  shows  off  very  well  against 
a  background  of  people  who  really  are  her  in- 
feriors ;  but  can  you  imagine  anything  more  un- 
fortunate than  to  be  placed  as  Heston  is,  even 
supposing  he  has  got  as  presentable  a  wife  as 
Miss  Rogers  would  be  ?  " 

"Be  careful!  you  are  speaking  too  loud,  Roger," 
said  George.  "  Yes,  I  can  imagine  a  good  many 
things  much  more  unfortunate  than  to  be  mar- 
ried to  a  woman,  young,  beautiful,  who  is  deeply 
in  love  with  her  husband,  —  for  I  suppose  you 


Il8  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

allow  the  possibility  of  that  to  Mrs.  Heston, — 
who  is  more  clever  and  intelligent  than  three 
quarters  of  the  girls  he  meets  in  society,  and  who 
lacks  simply  the  knowledge  of  a  few  conven- 
tionalities that  any  woman  is  sure  to  learn  in 
a  month.  Marriage  under  such  circumstances 
is  n't  such  a  terrible  bogey,  after  all." 

"  Bravo !  Well  spoken  from  the  book !  And 
her  friends  and  relatives,  —  Jane  Thomas  and 
the  rest?" 

There  was  a  moment's  pause  before  George 
answered.  "  Once  there  was  a  man,  Roger,  who 
said  that  he  married  his  wife,  and  not  his  wife's 
relatives.  I  agree  with  him." 

"  He  was  a  fool,"  said  Roger,  "  and  spoke 
in  the  exuberance  of  his  spirits  just  before  the 
wedding-day.  A  year  afterward  he  would  have 
told  a  very  different  story." 

"  But  I  had  no  idea  you  knew  or  cared  so 
much  about  John  Heston,"  said  George.  "  I 
never  knew  he  was  an  especial  friend  of  yours." 

"  He  isn't,  in  one  sense  ;  but  I  can't  help  feel- 
ing very  sorry  for  a  fellow  who  has  got  himself 
into  such  a  scrape.  I  would  have  given  a  good 
deal  to  have  kept  him  out  of  it." 

"  No  doubt  he  is  as  grateful  for  your  kind 
intentions  concerning  his  past,  as  he  is  for  your 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  119 

doleful  prognostications  concerning  his  future  ;  I 
am  sure  I  should  be  if  I  were  in  his  place." 

"  You,  —  oh,  I  have  no  fear  for  your  safety ! 
You  always  were  fond  of  arguing  on  the  wrong 
side,  George ;  but,  to  do  you  justice,  you  generally 
act  on  the  right  one,"  said  Roger,  laughing. 

"Thanks  for  the  compliment.  It  is  almost 
time  for  dinner,"  said  George,  as  he  went  into 
the  house. 

Roger  lay  back  on  the  grass  with  a  lazy  smile 
on  his  face  until  George  was  out  of  sight ;  then 
he  rolled  over  and  knit  his  brows  with  a  look 
of  real  vexation  and  anxiety.  "  Safe,  is  he  ? "  he 
muttered  to  himself.  "About  as  safe  as  if  he 
were  crossing  Niagara  on  a  tight-rope.  Entrap 
him  ?  Oh  no,  of  course  not  ;  she  '11  marry  him, 
that 's  all.  Confound  it !  A  shy  man  like  George 
is  sure  to  be  taken  in  by  the  first  woman  that 
will  make  love  to  him,  and  she  is  the  first  he 
ever  tried  to  know.  And  I  act  the  disinterested 
spectator !  " 

"  Dinner  is  ready,  Mr.  Urquhart,"  said  a  voice 
above  him. 

He  sprang  up  quickly,  and  found  himself  face 
to  face  with  Mary.  As  she  stood  there,  her  face 
a  little  flushed,  her  handkerchief  thrown  over  her 
dark  brown  hair  to  shelter  her  head  from  the 


120  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

sun,  Roger  felt  for  her  at  the  moment  far  more 
of  respect  and  admiration  than  he  had  known 
before.  She  was  handsome  enough  to  please 
even  his  fastidious  taste ;  and  the  fact  that  she 
had  determined  to  marry  his  susceptible  friend, 
and  that  she  was  setting  about  it  with  such  skill 
and  such  freedom  from  vulgar  bungling,  if  it 
added  to  his  dread,  gave  him  a  feeling  of  sym- 
pathy with  her  which  he  hardly  would  have 
owned  to  himself.  As  he  walked  beside  her  to 
the  house,  she  said  with  a  smile,  "  1  hope  you 
have  found  the  fishing  about  here  come  up  to 
your  expectations." 

"A  sop  to  Cerberus,"  thought  Roger.  "She 
is  trying  to  conciliate  the  friend ;  a  well-planned 
move,  but  rather  a  useless  one."  It  was  an  in- 
stant before  he  answered  :  "  Yes,  it  is  very  good. 
Excellent  fun,  fishing,  —  don't  you  think  so?  — 
especially  for  the  larger  kinds  of  game ;  but  it 
requires  skill. 

"  Bah  !  that 's  thrown  away  on  her.  No  one 
but  a  Frenchwoman  would  understand  it,"  he 
said  to  himself. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  121 


VIII. 

EORGE,"  said  Roger  at  supper  that  even- 
ing,  "  I  think  I  shall  go  to  town  to- 
morrow morning,  as  I  have  several  things  to  do 
there.  Probably  I  shall  come  back  by  the  after- 
noon train.  Take  good  care  of  the  boat  while 
I  am  gone  ;  long-continued  pounding,  even  on 
a  sand-bar,  will  do  its  work  at  last,  though  you 
may  not  think  it.  That 's  true,  is  n't  it,  Captain 
Rogers  ? " 

"  I  should  think  that  the  keel  of  that  craft," 
said  the  captain,  taking  a  good  deal  of  sea-room, 
metaphorically  speaking,  for  his  answer,  "  would 
have  learned  by  this  time  to  pick  out  the  soft 
places  in  pretty  much  all  of  the  flats  in  Stapleton 
Bay.  I  don't  wish  to  undervalue  your  seaman- 
ship, Mr.  Holyoke,  but  —  " 

"  Oh,  you  're  not  likely  to  undervalue  it,  I  am 
sorry  to  say.  I'  have  been  hoping,"  he  said, 
speaking  in  a  low  tone  across  the  table  to  Mary, 
"  that  you  would  let  me  take  you  out  for  a  sail. 
Will  you  not  go  to-morrow  ?  " 


122  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  You  have  put  me  in  a  very  awkward  posi- 
tion," said  Roger,  who  had  overheard  him.  "  You 
make  it  look  as  if  I  were  the  dragon  who  has 
prevented  you  from  asking  Miss  Rogers  before. 
That  is  not  the  reason,  though,"  he  said,  turning 
to  Mary.  "  He  is  a  modest  fellow,  and  distrusts 
himself.  He  wishes  some  more  experienced  per- 
son in  the  boat,  —  you  or  I,  for  example." 

George  vouchsafed  no  answer  to  the  sally,  but 
looked  at  Mary  earnestly  for  a  reply. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Mr.  Holyoke  ;  but  I  do 
not  lead  a  perfectly  lazy  life,  though  you  might 
suppose  so.  School  begins  to-morrow  over  in 
Sanket,  in  the  little  school-house  you  were  kind 
enough  to  admire." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  —  Might  I  bring 
you  back,  unless  you  are  afraid  to  trust  me  ?  " 
he  added,  trying  to  smile,  with  but  moderate 
success. 

"  Oh,  not  in  the  least.  To  doubt  that  we 
could  get  back  would  be  to  make  light  of  my 
seamanship  as  well  as  yours  ;  but  I  shall  not 
come  home  until  Tuesday.  I  shall  stay  in 
Sanket  over  night." 

George  was  angry  with  himself  to  find  his 
courage  so  much  exhausted  by  these  two  ques- 
tions that  he  dared  not  make  the  same  offer 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  123 

for  Tuesday.  However,  so  it  was,  and  he  said 
no  more. 

Early  the  next  morning  Roger  started  for  the 
city,  —  so  early  that  his  business  was  finished 
several  hours  before  the  train  left  for  Stapleton. 
It  was  a  hot  summer's  day,  and  to  pass  away  the 
time  he  went  into  a  great  library  in  the  heart 
of  the  city.  There  he  knew  that  a  quiet,  lofty 
reading-room  opened  upon  the  cool  shade  of  a 
little  graveyard  where  the  bodies  of  his  country's 
honored  dead  were  doing  their  last  public  ser- 
vice in  defending  from  the  city  fathers  a  few 
trees  and  flowers  and  plats  of  grass  for  the  city's 
children. 

He  went  to  the  librarian's  desk  with  the  book 
he  had  chosen,  and  saw,  standing  with  her  back 
toward  him,  a  tall  fair-haired  girl  seventeen  or 
eighteen  years  old.  As  he  waited  for  the  libra- 
rian, one  of  the  attendants  went  up  to  the  girl 
and  said  in  a  sulky  voice,  "  I  can't  find  the  book. 
It 's  not  in  the  library." 

The  clear  but  soft  tone  in  which  the  answer 
came  fixed  his  attention. 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself ;  it  is  really  of  no 
consequence.  This  one  will  do  quite  as  well." 

A  feeble  light  came  even  into  the  attendant's 
eyes,  as  she  said,  "  I  '11  try  again  for  it,  Miss  ; 


124  *  IMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

perhaps  I  may  have  overlooked  it,"  and  hurried 
away.  The  girl  herself  came  toward  the  place 
where  Roger  was  standing ;  and,  as  she  came,  he 
saw  that  it  was  Hildegarde  Standish.  He  bowed 
and  shook  hands,  then  turned  to  sign  his  name 
for  the  book  he  was  taking  out ;  and  he  remem- 
bered afterwards  that,  as  he  did  so,  Hildegarde, 
standing  beside  him,  looked  through  the  trees  at 
the  busy  street  beyond.  When  he  had  finished, 
he  turned  to  her. 

"  It  is  very  flattering,  Miss  Standish,  that  you 
should  remember  me  ;  for  I  was  but  just  pre- 
sented to  you,  when  I  had  to  yield  my  place  to 
another  man." 

"  I  do  remember  you,"  said  Hildegarde.  "  You 
were  introduced  to  me  at  our  garden  party,  and 
you  paid  me  a  very  pretty  compliment  there  ; 
but  I  am  sorry  that  I  do  not  remember  your 
name." 

Roger  gave  it,  saying,  with  a  smile,  "  And  you 
thought  my  handwriting  would  be  so  illegible 
that  it  was  not  worth  while  to  try  to  make  it  out 
from  my  signature." 

"  I  did  not  care  to  look  over  you,"  said  Hilde- 
garde, quietly.  "  Are  you  not  passing  the  sum- 
mer at  Stapleton  ? " 

Roger  assented,   and  made   a   few   common- 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  125 

place  remarks  about  Stapleton  and  other  places 
by  the  sea,  when  Hildegarde  said,  moving  as  if 
to  go,  "  May  I  trouble  you  to  do  me  a  favor, 
Mr.  Urquhart?" 

"  It  would  be  a  pleasure  to  me  to  do  a  favor 
for  one  whose  occupation  is  to  grant  favors, 
Miss  Standish." 

"  Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  tell  Miss  Brattle, 
if  you  should  see  her  while  you  are  here,  that  I 
had  to  leave  before  she  came,  and  that  I  hope 
she  will  come  to  us  as  soon  as  she  can  for  her 
visit  at  Cornlands,  —  which  is  the  name  of  our 
place  at  Stapleton." 

Then,  turning  with  a  smile,  which  Roger 
thought  must  be  wasted,  to  the  attendant  who 
had  just  come  up  with  the  book  she  had  asked 
for,  Hildegarde  left  the  library. 

Roger  had  been  heated  and  uncomfortable, 
perhaps  even  a  little  irritable,  when  he  left  the 
street ;  now,  for  some  reason  which  he  did  not 
stop  to  think  about,  he  sat  down  to  his  book  in 
a  more  contented  frame  of  mind,  and  soon  was 
so  much  absorbed  that  he  started  at  hearing  his 
name  spoken,  and  at  seeing  Ann  Brattle  stand- 
ing before  him. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Brattle,"  said  he, 
springing  up. 


126  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  The  quiet  delights  of  peaceful  Stapleton  are 
not  sufficient  for  you,  unless  you  plunge  occasion- 
ally into  the  feverish  whirl  of  the  city,  I  suppose," 
said  Ann.  "  I  hope  you  have  not  left  for  good, 
for  I  trusted  that  I  should  see  you  there  when 
I  went  to  stay  with  the  Standishes  ;  I  scarcely 
have  met  you  since  you  went  abroad,  —  since 
our  long  discussions  when  we  were  young,  Mr. 
Urquhart." 

"A  little  of  this  feverishness  will  bear  a  large 
dilution  of  the  placidity  of  Stapleton.  Just  now 
I  was  delighted  to  hear  from  Miss  Standish  that 
you  are  to  make  a  visit  to  them  there." 

"  Miss  Standish  has  been  here,  then  ? " 

"  Yes,  and  she  asked  me  to  tell  you  that  she 
hoped  you  would  make  your  visit  to  Stapleton 
as  soon  as  possible." 

"  She  is  a  charming  girl,  Hildegarde  Standish, 
but  hardly  in  your  style,"  said  Ann,  looking 
shrewdly  at  him. 

Roger  wondered  for  a  moment  if  it  were 
possible  that  George  could  have  told  Ann  of 
their  conversation  about  Hildegarde  Standish 
on  the  day  when  they  went  to  Stapleton.  He 
thought  not,  but  he  felt  uneasy. 

"  Certainly  I  should  not  take  on  myself  to  say 
that  Miss  Standish's  style  is  not  very  good." 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  127 

"  No  ?  I  should  have  said  it  was  too  bread- 
and-buttery  for  us ;  if  it  is  n't,  may  I  congratu- 
late you  on  the  improvement  of  your  taste  while 
you  were  abroad  ?  You  see  that  I  am  as  ready 
for  warfare  as  ever.  Tell  me  how  fares  my 
cousin  George,  and  I  will  leave  you  in  peace  for 
a  few  days,  until  we  meet  at  Stapleton." 

"George  is — very  well,"  said  Roger. 

"  Don't  spare  my  feelings,"  said  Ann.  "  Really, 
I  am  interested  in  my  cousin  ;  tell  me  what  fear- 
ful mystery  is  concealed  behind  your  words." 

"  Miss  Brattle,"  said  Roger,  looking  up  after 
an  instant's  pause,  "you  will  laugh  at  me  when 
I  tell  you.  I  feel  that  I  am  offering  myself  a 
victim  to  your  ridicule  ;  so  please  begin  to  laugh 
now,  that  we  may  be  serious  the  sooner.  But 
what  I  have  to  say  is  in  perfect  earnest,  and  you 
are  the  only  person  who  can  do  any  good  in  the 
matter ;  George  will  be  engaged  shortly  to  one 
of  the  natives  of  Stapleton." 

As  he  was  speaking,  Ann  looked  at  him  in 
unfeigned  wonder,  and  when  he  finished,  she  did 
not  laugh  as  much  as  he  had  foretold. 

"Do  you  mean  what  you  say,  Mr.  Urquhart  ?" 

"  Most  certainly,  and  more  than  I  have  said. 
George  is  fascinated  already,  more  than  I  ever 
have  seen  him  ;  it  is  a  question  of  time  only,  and 


128  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

of  pretty  short  time  at  that.  I  have  tried,  but 
of  course  I  have  only  made  matters  worse,  and 
if  you  fail,  Miss  Brattle,  it  is  past  cure." 

"  And  how  am  I  to  help  you  ? "  said  Ann,  who 
began  to  see  the  ludicrous  side  of  the  situation. 
"  Am  I  a  great  enchantress,  able  to  exorcise  the 
evil  spirit  in  George,  and  break  the  meshes  which 
this  young  —  person —  has  been  weaving  ? " 

"  George  has  no  mother,"  said  Roger,  "  and 
I  am  forced  to  say  that  I  am  no  match  for 
the  '  young  person.'  I  will  yield  to  you  that 
a  woman's  wits  are  sharper  than  a  man's  in  a 
case  like  this." 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  discuss  some  of  our  old 
questions  with  you  now  that  you  are  in  such  a 
mood.  And  so,  as  Aunt  Charlotte  is  dead,  you 
look  on  me  as  the  likeliest  person  to  play  the 
part  of  George's  mother.  I  am  much  gratified 
by  your  tribute  to  the  discretion  which  I  have 
gained  with  advancing  years.  I  suppose  you 
have  tried  to  act  the  part  of  my  late  Uncle 
Henry  without  success." 

"  You  may  laugh  at  me  as  much  as  you  please  ; 
but  at  least  you  will  do  your  best,  for  I  know  that 
you  care  for  George  almost  as  much  as  I  do." 

"What  is  the  fair  charmer  like?"  said  Ann, 
sitting  down.  "  Tell  me  all  about  her." 


SHfPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  129 

"  She  is  handsome,  I  regret  to  say,  and  she  is 
quite  superior  to  her  -family  and  neighbors ;  other- 
wise, I  do  not  believe  that  even  George  would 
have  become  infatuated.  We  are  lodging  in  her 
father's  house,  so  her  opportunities  are  constant, 
and  she  uses  them  very  well,  I  am  bound  to  say ; 
she  is  no  coarse  common  bungler,  but  plays  her 
fish  very  artfully.  I  confess,  I  cannot  imagine 
where  she  has  learned  it  all." 

"  You  don't  do  justice  to  natural  New  Eng- 
land shrewdness,  Mr.  Urquhart.  Is  she  edu- 
cated at  all  ? " 

"Oh,  yes;  she  has  read  Milton,  and  the  Lord 
knows  what  not  else.  You  will  have  no  easy 
task  of  it.  She  is  clever  enough  to  give  you  a 
deal  of  trouble  ;  and,  if  I  had  not  so  much  at 
stake,  I  should  enjoy  seeing  Greek  meet  Greek. 
I  will  do  my  best  to  help  you,  but  that  will  not 
be  much,  for  the  only  way  to  save  George  is  to 
induce  him  to  make  the  comparison  between 
this  girl  and  a  real  lady." 

"Mr.  Urquhart,"  said  Ann,  "you  are  right. 
It  will  be  a  hard  fight;  and,  however  I  may  joke 
about  it  now,  it  is  serious  enough.  George  went 
down  to  Stapleton  disgusted  with  society,  and 
thinking  that  he  had  made  a  fool  of  himself  be- 
fore the  woman  he  cared  most  about  ;  though, 
9 


130  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

mind  you,  I  do  not  believe  he  was  in  love  with 
her.  If  she  had  been  rude  to  him,  or  had 
treated  him  ill,  it  would  not  matter,  he  would 
have  been  angry  with  her,  and  that  would  have 
been  the  end  of  it  ;  but  now,  he  is  angry  with 
himself,  and,  if  a  man  feels  himself  humiliated, 
he  will  be  very  grateful  for  the  first  news  that 
he  still  is  good  for  something.  George  was  dis- 
gusted with  society  because  he  was  so  shy  that 
he  did  not  succeed  in  it ;  and  if  he  finds  himself 
of  importance  to  a  pretty  girl,  what  are  you  to 
expect  ?  " 

She  paused  a  moment,  and  looked  thought- 
fully at  the  ground,  biting  the  ivory  handle  of 
her  parasol;  then  she  raised  her  head  quickly, 
almost  with  a  jerk.  "Clara  Ellison  is  to  go  to 
Stapleton,  I  believe,  to  stay  with  Mrs.  Standish. 
She  could  do  fifty  times  as  much  good  as  you 
and  I  put  together,  if  she  only  would "  —  she 
paused  for  a  word  to  express  her  meaning  with- 
out implying  too  much  forwardness  on  Clara's 
part  —  "  smile  on  him  two  or  three  times.  If 
she  won't,  we  must  make  what  use  we  can  of 
Hildegarde  Standish,  though  she  is  not  quite 
old  enough,  and  not  quite  worldly  enough  for 
the  purpose.  I  can  do  nothing,  myself,  but  give 
him  good  advice ;  and,  as  matters  stand,  that 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  131 

would  be  very  much  worse  than  to  let  him  alone 
altogether.  Our  only  chance  is  to  supply  him 
with  a  higher  class  of  flattery ;  for  flattery, 
especially  when  applied  by  women,  is  the  only 
sure  means  of  producing  the  desired  effect  on 
you  men.  If  it  fails  in  any  case,  it  is  n't  be- 
cause the  man  is  impervious  to  flattery,  but 
simply  because  the  flatteress  is  a  novice  in  the 
art." 

"  You  may  trample  upon  me  as  much  as  you 
please,  Miss  Brattle.  So  long  as  you  trample  upon 
the  enemy  at  the  same  time,  I  shall  make  no 
defence.  When  George  is  saved,  —  or  married, 
—  I  will  defend  my  sex,  as  I  have  done  before, 
against  your  aspersions." 

"  George  wrote  me  a  letter  from  Stapleton  the 
other  day,"  said  Ann,  "and  he  said  in  it  nothing 
about  the  fair  one.  That  is  a  bad  sign  ;  for  it 
shows  that  he  does  not  even  imagine  it  is  a 
Platonic  friendship.  Not  that  it  makes  much 
difference,  for  Platonic  friendship  is  merely  the 
flirtation  of  people  who  think  it  is  wrong  to 
flirt;  and,  as  Platonic  friends  are  usually  rather 
clumsy,  it  is  a  good  deal  more  likely  to  lead 
to  matrimony.  Is  the  conspirators'  duet  ended 
now  ? "  she  added,  after  a  moment's  pause.  "  Is 
there  anything  more  to  do  before  we  clasp  each 


132  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

other's  hands  and  devote  ourselves  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  our  sacred  task?  I  believe  conspi- 
rators always  part  in  that  way.  I  cannot  help 
looking  on  the  ludicrous  side  of  the  affair  just 
now,  especially  when  I  try  to  imagine  what 
would  be  the  length  of  my  Uncle  Henry's  face 
if  he  were  alive  now,  and  heard  the  news." 

"  And  when  shall  I  look  for  the  arrival  of 
the  great  enchantress,  the  fairy  godmother,  at 
Stapleton  ? " 

"To-day  is  Monday;  fortunately,  the  Stan- 
dishes  have  asked  me  to  come  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. I  will  go  down  on  Wednesday,  and  I 
shall  be  glad  to  see  you  there,  so  that  we  may 
hold  our  final  council  of  war  before  beginning 
hostilities.  Let  George  know  when  I  am  com- 
ing, but  do  not  urge  him  to  come  to  see  me  ;  on 
Thursday  I  will  call  on  him  when  the  charmer 
is  at  home,  and  open  the  campaign.  Cheer  up, 
Mr.  Urquhart ;  life  is  worth  living  yet,"  she  said, 
as  she  left  him  and  walked  out  of  the  library. 

As  she  hurried  through  the  streets,  her  face 
wore  a  peculiar  smile.  She  was  thinking  how 
quickly  and  how  fully  George  had  taken  the 
advice  she  had  given  him  in  all  seriousness  at 
the  garden  party,  and  smiling  at  the  energy 
which  she  now  was  putting  forth  to  prevent  him 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  133 

from  following  out  that  advice  to  its  natural 
result.  Her  face  wore  such  a  queer  look,  that 
Charley  Cocker,  who  stood  much  in  awe  of  that 
intellectual  and  positive  Miss  Brattle,  felt  very 
uneasy  when  she  returned  his  bow,  which  he 
had  intended  to  be  propitiatory,  and  wondered 
what  part  of  his  dress  or  bearing  she  had  singled 
out  for  ridiculing  to  the  next  friend  she  met. 

Roger  tried  to  turn  again  to  his  book,  but 
for  some  time  he  did  not  succeed.  He  was 
pleased  at  the  outcome  of  the  interview  ;  re- 
lieved that  so  clever  a  woman  as  he  believed 
Ann  Brattle  to  be,  was  enlisted  in  the  cause 
which  he  had  so  much  at  heart,  and  he  began 
to  hope  for  a  favorable  issue.  As  he  was  think- 
ing thus,  and  weighing  the  chances  of  success, 
feeling  somewhat  jealous  that  Ann  should  suc- 
ceed where  he  knew  that  he  himself  had  failed, 
there  rose  for  a  minute  before  him  a  picture 
of  Mary  as  he  had  seen  her  on  Sunday,  when 
she  came  out  to  call  him  with  her  handkerchief 
thrown  over  her  head,  and  a  June  rose  at  her 
throat ;  which,  because  it  so  much  became  her, 
he  believed  she  had  put  there  to  entrap  his 
friend.  For  a  moment  he  thought  it  hardly 
fair  that  a  shrewd  woman  like  Ann  Brattle,  and 
such  a  clever  man  as  he  thought  himself,  should 


134  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

join  forces  to  plot  against  a  country  girl;  but 
the  thought  was  only  a  passing  fancy,  for  he 
felt  that  he  was  battling  for  George's  future 
happiness,  and,  in  comparison  with  that,  the 
hearts  of  all  the  girls  in  Stapleton  were  light 
in  the  balance. 

He  sympathized  with  Mary.  He  felt  that  if 
he  had  been  her  friend  instead  of  George's,  he 
would  have  given  her  all  the  help  in  his  power  ; 
for  Mary  would  have  fallen  very  much  in  his 
estimation  if  he  had  not  believed  that  she  was 
seeking  with  might  and  main  to  marry  George 
Holyoke. 

"  Such  a  chance  comes  to  a  girl  like  that  but 
once,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I  almost  wish  I 
were  a  stranger,  and  could  watch  Ann  Brattle 
and  this  girl  manoeuvre  for  George.  Upon  my 
word,  I  don't  know  that  I  should  sympathize 
altogether  with  my  present  ally." 

But  he  was  not  a  disinterested  spectator,  and 
he  set  himself  to  think  how  he  could  help  Ann 
in  the  struggle  most  effectually.  And  so,  in 
reflections  interrupted  by  an  occasional  attempt 
to  read,  he  passed  the  time  until  the  train  left 
for  Stapleton. 

All  the  next  day  it  seemed  to  Roger  that 
George  was  nervous  and  preoccupied.  Now 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  135 

that  he  had  come  to  think  that  remonstrance 
would  do  no  good,  Roger  carefully  avoided  all 
discussion,  and  strove  hard  to  brush  his  friend's 
feelings  the  right  way.  But  when  Mary  came 
home  on  Tuesday,  although  he  had  expected  it, 
he  was  irritated  to  find  that  George  passed  a 
large  part  of  the  evening  in  talking  with  her. 
Roger  himself  took  up  a  book,  firmly  intending 
to  overhear  all  that  was  said.  Rather  to  his 
surprise,  he  found  no  difficulty  in  doing  so. 
They  talked  mostly  of  Mary's  school,  of  books, 
and  of  education  in  general.  He  wondered  at 
the  way  in  which  George  came  out  in  a  conver- 
sation not  in  the  least  sentimental,  and  also  at 
the  originality  of  some  of  Mary's  thoughts,  and 
at  the  vigor  and  clearness  with  which  she  ex- 
pressed them,  while  he  could  not  but  smile  at  the 
humor  in  her  description  of  a  visit  of  the  school 
committee  to  her  school.  He  would  not  enter 
into  the  conversation  lest  he  should  make  George 
angry. 

When  Mary  had  left  them,  and  the  two  young 
men  went  out  for  a  few  minutes,  he  felt  that 
he  had  done  his  duty  by  keeping  the  enemy  in 
check,  as  far  as  was  in  his  power,  until  re- 
inforcements came  up.  But  his  wrath  knew 
no  bounds,  when,  on  the  next  day,  Miss  Jane 


136  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

Thomas,  whom  George  and  he  met  in  the  village 
street,  told  them  that  the  schools  of  the  neigh- 
borhood were  to  hold  a  picnic  on  the  next  Fri- 
day, the  Fourth  of  July,  by  the  shores  of  a  lake 
a  few  miles  off.  She  took  special  pains  to  say 
that  Mary's  school  in  Sanket  was  included, 
and  that  teachers,  as  well  as  pupils,  would  go. 
Then,  with  a  knowing  look,  she  asked  George 
and  Roger,  the  former  much  more  especially,  to 
join  the  party. 

George  accepted  greedily,  as  Roger  thought. 
He  himself  was  so  angry  that  such  a  heavy 
blow  should  be  struck  by  such  a  pestilent  and 
contemptible  creature  as  Jane  Thomas,  that  he 
hardly  could  command  his  voice  to  speak.  He 
really  did  not  know  whether  it  were  his  duty  to 
accept  or  not  ;  but  making  up  his  mind  that 
he  could  do  no  good  by  going,  he  refused  rather 
roughly. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  137 


IX. 


THAT  evening,  as  he  did  not  find  George 
desirous  of  accompanying  him,  Roger 
alone  rowed  across  the  bay  to  Cornlands,  as 
Mr.  Standish  called  his  place  by  the  sea-shore. 
There  he  found  Ann,  just  come  from  the  city, 
talking  with  Mrs.  Standish  and  Hildegarde  on 
the  broad  low  piazza,  that  ran  almost  around  the 
rambling  house.  The  bay,  with  the  ocean  sepa- 
rated from  it  by  a  long  sandy  neck,  lay  in  front 
of  them  and  on  their  right,  across  its  narrower 
part,  they  could  see  the  lights  of  Stapleton. 

Roger  was  forced  to  talk  to  all  three  ladies, 
and  chafed  inwardly,  wondering  how  he  should 
get  a  chance  of  speaking  to  Ann,  when  she  asked 
Hildegarde  to  sing  to  them.  All  the  windows 
were  open,  and  it  was  at  Hildegarde's  own  sug- 
gestion that  her  listeners  sat  on  the  piazza,  where 
they  could  hear  quite  as  well  as  if  they  followed 
her  into  the  house.  In  the  confusion  of  moving, 
Roger  took  care  to  find  a  seat  near  Ann ;  and,  no 


138  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

sooner  had  Hildegarde  begun  a  ballad,  than 
Ann  leaned  over  to  him  and  said  almost  in  a 
whisper:  "Hilda  really  sings  very  nicely,  and 
you  ought  to  hear  her  sometime,  but  we  must 
to  business  now,  I  suppose.  What  is  the  condi- 
tion of  the  patient,  and  has  the  good  old  fairy 
come  in  time  ? " 

"  There  is  no  news,"  said  Roger,  "  except  —  " 
and  he  told  the  story  of  the  picnic. 

"Well,  we  can't  help  that,"  said  Ann.  "On 
the  very  same  day  Clara  Ellison  comes  down  with 
Harry  Larkyns,  and  we  must  do  the  best  we 
can.  At  what  time  to-morrow  shall  I  find  George 
and  the  charmer  both  at  home,  for  I  must  see 
the  'young  person'?" 

"  At  any  time  after  our  early  six-o'clock  tea  — 
unless  they  go  out  to  walk  together ;  and  it  has 
not  come  to  that  quite  yet." 

"That's  a  charming  song,  Hilda,"  said  Ann, 
almost  interrupting  him  ;  "  do  give  us  another." 

"What  shall  it  be?"  said  Hildegarde's  voice, 
from  out  the  parlor. 

"  You  did  so  well  in  choosing  the  last,  that  we 
must  leave  it  to  you  to  choose  the  next.  Then 
I  must  ask  you  to  come  over  here  and  take 
me  across  to  Stapleton,"  she  went  on,  turning  to 
Roger.  "Tell  George  nothing  about  it.  I  want 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  139 

to  surprise  him,  and  the  'young  person,'  too,  if  I 
can  ;  we  must  risk  the  picnic,  it  seems,  and  try 
to  make  a  fresh  start  afterwards.  When  you 
were  a  small  boy,  Mr.  Urquhart,  did  you  ever 
believe  there  were  people  cruel  enough  to  pray 
that  it  would  rain  on  the  Fourth  of  July  ?  Well, 
I  advise  you  to  vow  the  sacrifice  of  a  lamb  to 
Jupiter  Pluvius  if  the  little  boys  are  disappointed 
this  year." 

The  song  was  over,  and  Hildegarde  came  out 
again  upon  the  piazza. 

"You  are  staying  at  Captain  Rogers's  house 
in  Stapleton,  I  think,  not  at  the  hotel,"  said  Mrs. 
Standish,  turning  to  Roger. 

"  Yes,  we  are  so  fortunate,"  said  Roger,  with 
an  ironical  inflection  in  his  voice,  meant  for  Ann 
alone. 

"  I  was  surprised  to  hear  that  Mrs.  Rogers 
took  boarders.  I  supposed  they  were  too  well 
off.  Quite  a  pretty  daughter  Mrs.  Rogers  has, 
don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Urquhart  ?  She  is  a 
little  superior  in  appearance  to1  most  of  the 
people  of  Stapleton  ;  quite  lady-like  in  looks, 
considering  who  she  is,  though  her  manners  are 
rather  abrupt.  Gentlemen  staying  with  me  have 
noticed  her  several  times  in  church." 

Roger  assented. 


140  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  And  she  is  what  she  looks  like,"  said  Hilde- 
garde's  clear  voice.  "  She  teaches  school  in 
Sanket,  the  next  village  to  this ;  I  must  drive  you 
over,  Ann,  to  see  her  little  school-house,  which 
she  has  covered  with  honeysuckle  and  wood- 
bine. It  is  really  one  of  the  prettiest  sights  on 
the  whole  shore." 

"I  should  very  much  like  to  go,  dear,"  said 
Ann. 

"And  when  she  comes  home  to  Stapleton  by 
water,"  Hildegarde  continued,  "  I  have  seen  her 
boys  escort  her  to  the  wharf  in  a  body,  with  her 
belongings  divided  among  them,  so  that  almost 
every  one  gets  a  share.  As  I  was  riding  by,  I 
felt  I  should  like  to  stop  and  sketch  the  scene  if 
I  had  a  right  to  do  it." 

"  A  right  to  do  it !  What  do  you  mean  ? " 
said  Roger. 

"Why,  very  often  when  I  want  to  sketch  a 
person,  it  is  because  they  are  doing  what  they 
do  not  expect  or  wish  me  to  see,  and  I  have  no 
right  to  intrude  upon  them.  I  can  take  only  a 
mental  sketch  for  my  own  benefit,  and  sometimes 
I  think  it  is  hardly  right  to  do  even  that.  I 
often  have  wished  that  I  could  make  a  friend 
of  Miss  Rogers.  Of  course,  I  have  met  her  and 
talked  with  her  often  in  Stapleton ;  but  I  think 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  141 

it  would  be  hard  to  know  her  in  the  way  I 
should  like." 

"  Don't  rave,  Hilda  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Standish, 
in  a  somewhat  disapproving  tone,  while  Roger 
and  Ann  exchanged  significant  glances. 

"  You  were  a  long  time  in  Paris,  were  you  not, 
Mr.  Urquhart,  when  you  were  abroad  for  the  last 
time  ?  "  Mrs.  Standish  continued,  with  hardly  a 
pause.  The  conversation  was  turned  success- 
fully, and  Roger  soon  went  back  to  Stapleton. 

On  the  following  day,  after  his  early  tea,  when 
more  than  an  hour  of  sunlight  still  remained, 
Roger  rowed  Ann  from  Cornlands  across  to 
Stapleton. 

"  It  was  an  amusing  scene  last  night,"  said 
Ann,  as  they  walked  from  the  wharf  at  Stapleton 
toward  Captain  Rogers's  house.  "  Mrs.  Standish 
is  a  most  excellent  woman,  according  to  the  fash- 
ionable standard.  She  subscribes  to  most  of  the 
charities  in  the  city,  and  is  president  of  the  So- 
ciety for  the  Relief  of  Aged  and  Indigent  Female 
Shoplifters  ;  but  she  understands  Hildegarde  no 
more  than  —  you  and  I  understand  the  angels, 
Mr.  Urquhart.  I  was  very  much  tempted  to 
prevent  her  from  changing  the  subject  last  even- 
ing ;  but  I  knew  that  she  never  would  forgive 
me  if  I  did  ;  for  she  has  an  uneasy  feeling,  when- 


142  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

ever,  as  happens  frequently,  Hildegarde  says 
something  which  she  cannot  comprehend.  That 
is  the  couple,  I  suppose,"  she  went  on,  as,  through 
a  break  in  the  trees  that  sheltered  the  house 
from  the  road,  they  caught  sight  of  George 
and  Mary  seated  on  each  side  of  the  small 
porch  at  the  front  door,  —  the  door  which  Mrs. 
Rogers  now  used  in  deference  to  her  guests ;  a 
piece  of  extravagance  which  had  been  censured 
by  some  of  her  thriftier  neighbors.  Roger 
and  Ann  entered  the  gate  unseen,  and  it  was 
their  tread  on  the  brick  walk  which  discovered 
them. 

George  and  Mary  rose  ;  the  former  came  for- 
ward a  step  or  two,  and  greeted  his  cousin  with 
some  embarrassment.  Ann  shook  hands,  and, 
before  he  could  speak,  passed  on  directly  to 
where  Mary  stood. 

"  Miss  Rogers,  I  think,"  she  said,  in  her  bland- 
est tones.  "  I  will  not  trouble  my  cousin  for  an 
introduction,  for  gentlemen  are  not  competent 
to  introduce  ladies,  you  know.  I  am  Miss  Ann 
Brattle  ;  and,  as  my  lazy  cousin  would  not  come 
to  see  me,  why,  perforce,  I  have  come  to  find 
him." 

"  I  have  heard  Mr.  Holyoke  speak  of  you," 
said  Mary,  "  and  from  the  way  in  which  he  spoke, 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  143 

I  think  it  must  be  that  he  did  not  know  you 
were  here." 

"I  am  afraid  I  cannot  make  that  excuse," 
said  George.  "  I  was  coming  over  to  see  you 
to-morrow  morning." 

"  Well,  I  have  been  before  you.  Don't  go,  Miss 
Rogers.  What  a  delightful  view  you  have  from 
here !  "  said  Ann,  turning  to  look  at  the  bay  and 
the  bluff  of  Cornlands  rising  beyond  it. 

"  Yes,  I  am  very  fond  of  it,"  said  Mary,  with  a 
smile;  "but  Mr.  Holyoke  tells  me  that  country 
people  do  not  appreciate  properly  the  beauties 
of  Nature  which  they  see  every  day  ;  since  then 
I  have  been  more  careful  in  expressing  my 
admiration." 

"  For  shame,  George  ! "  said  Ann.  "  And  that 
is  particularly  unjust  to  you,  Miss  Rogers,  as  I 
hear ;  for  Miss  Standish  tells  me  that  your  school- 
house  in  some  place,  the  name  of  which  I  can- 
not for  the  life  of  me  remember,  is  one  of  the 
sights  of  the  neighborhood  ;  indeed,  she  has  prom- 
ised to  drive  me  over  to  look  at  it  some  day." 

"  Miss  Standish  is  very  kind  to  say  so,"  said 
Mary,  quietly  ;  then,  with  a  smile, "  Yes,  I  believe 
even  Mr.  Holyoke  made  an  exception  of  that,  for 
which  I  was  very  much  obliged  to  him." 

"  Miss  Rogers,  if  you  do  not  take  care,  I  shall 


144  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

be  forced  into  telling  what  you  have  said  of  my 
taste  as  a  dweller  in  cities,"  said  George. 

"Oh,  do  tell  me!"  said  Ann,  gleefully;  then, 
turning  again  to  Mary,  "  I  always  have  wanted  to 
see  myself  as  others  saw  me.  Do  you  speak  from 
what  you  have  seen  of  the  city,  Miss  Rogers,  or 
do  you  attack  us,  as  I  am  afraid  George  has 
attacked  you,  on  general  principles  only  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  attacked  you.  I 
have  seen  the  city,  not  very  much  more." 

"We  are  open  enough  to  attack,"  said  Ann. 
"  Our  life  is  so  much  more  complex  and  artificial, 
we  have  so  many  more  wants,  and  lack  sim- 
plicity so  completely.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  said  Mary,  dryly.  Not  even  the 
fact  that  Ann  was  looking  her  straight  in  the 
face,  could  keep  her  from  sending  a  quick  glance 
toward  George.  As  for  him,  recalled  thereby, 
and  by  Ann's  words,  to  certain  things  which 
Mary  had  said  to  him  when  he  brought  her  back 
from  Sanket,  he  smiled  with  full  appreciation. 

Ann,  who  had  an  uneasy  feeling  that  some- 
thing was  going  wrong,  changed  the  subject 
quickly. 

"  But  tell  me  about  your  school,  Miss  Rogers. 
I  am  much  more  interested  in  that  than  I  am 
in  discussing  myself." 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  145 

"  I  am  afraid  that  your  interest  will  be  disap- 
pointed;  there  is  not  much  to  entertain  any  one 
in  a  country  school." 

"  Oh,  you  do  your  profession  injustice,  and 
you  do  injustice  also  to  my  desire  for  knowledge. 
If  Miss  Standish  keeps  her  promise,  and  drives 
me  over  to  the  unpronounceable  village,  would  it 
be  against  the  rules  if  I  looked  at  the  school- 
house  inside  as  well  as  out?" 

"  I  am  afraid  it  would,"  said  Mary  ;  "  our  rules 
do  not  admit  any  one  but  the  relatives  of  the 
children." 

"Ah,  then  I  shall  have  to  give  it  up,"  said 
Ann.  She  was  turning  away  toward  George, 
when  Mary  spoke  slowly,  as  George  remembered 
she  had  done  when  first  he  had  seen  her :  "  I 
must  leave  you  now,  Miss  Brattle ;  my  mother 
needs  me  to  help  her." 

"Oh,  I  am  sorry;  good-by,"  said  Ann,  in 
rather  a  perfunctory  manner,  bowing  slightly  as 
Mary  went  into  the  house. 

"  Now  we  can  talk  together,"  she  went  on,  sit- 
ting down  on  the  bench  in  the  porch.  "  George, 
you  have  been  most  undutiful  to  your  cousin  ;  but 
she  is  generous  and  forgives  you,  if  you  will 
promise  to  do  better  for  the  future." 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  George;  "but  — " 
10 


146  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"But  nothing.  Well,  you  positively  must 
come  over  to  Cornlands  on  Saturday  and  pay 
your  respects.  To-morrow,  I  hear,  you  are 
about  to  disport  yourself  with  the  villagers  at 
a  famous  picnic.  You  go  in  for  observing 
manners  and  customs  with  a  vengeance,  on  the 
nil  humani  a  me  alienum  ptito  principle,  I  sup- 
pose ;  but  you  ought  not  to  neglect  your  friends 
entirely.  By  the  way,  Clara  Ellison  comes 
clown  to-morrow  ;  I  think  it  would  not  be  al- 
together unacceptable  to  Mrs.  Standish  if  you 
and  Mr.  Urquhart  were  to  offer  to  take  her 
guests  for  a  sail  some  fine  day." 

"Mr.  Urquhart  is  always  at  her  disposal,  I 
have  no  doubt,  and  if  I  must,  I  must.  That 
does  not  apply  to  you,  Ann ;  my  cousin  knows 
it  always  is  a  pleasure  for  me  to  talk  with  her." 

"  And  I  hope  it  does  not  apply  to  the  others," 
said  Ann.  ".I  am  your  physician,  I  believe. 
You  know  that  I  go  in  for  women  doctors  ;  at 
least,  you  consulted  me  on  your  case  at  Mrs. 
Standish's  garden  party,  and  I  shall  not  let  go 
hold  of  you  so  easily.  This  will  be  an  excellent 
chance  for  you  to  try  my  prescription.  Miss 
Ellison  is  a  most  charming  girl,  and  you  have 
the  advantage  that  she  thinks  well  of  you,  to 
begin  with." 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  147 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  for  the  good  opinion 
of  me  which  you  are  pleased  to  attribute  to  Miss 
Ellison." 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  that  I  attribute  it  to  her.  Of 
course,  I  don't  mean  that  Clara  Ellison  goes 
around  mooning  for  you  —  " 

"  I  should  hope  not ! "  broke  in  George,  as  if  he 
did  not  like  the  idea. 

—  "  No,  not  in  the  least.  I  mean  only  that  she 
cares  for  you  as  she  cares  for  any  other  man  in 
society  to  whom  she  finds  it  more  than  ordina- 
rily agreeable  to  talk  ;  which  is  all  the  better 
for  the  purposes  of  my  prescription.  I  did  not 
mean  to  pose  in  the  light  of  a  matchmaker,  try- 
ing to  bring  things  to  pass  between  you.  I  am 
only  your  cousin,  trying,  at  your  request,  as  I 
thought,  to  help  you  fill  a  place  in  society  for 
which  I  am  proud  to  believe  that  you  are  well 
fitted.  Really,  I  am  quite  proud  of  my  cousin,  I 
assure  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  George,  a  little  mollified, 
but  still  rather  uneasy. 

"  You  are  welcome.  You  were  asking  me,  I 
remember,  at  that  delightful  garden  party,  how 
to  begin  a  conversation  with  a  young  lady  when 
you  had  nothing  in  particular  to  say  to  her  ;  allow 
me  to  suggest  that  an  account  of  to-morrow's 


148  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

picnic  would  make  a  very  good  beginning ;  it 
must  be  decidedly  a  queer  sight  in  some  ways, 
and  you  could  make  an  amusing  story  of  it.  At 
least,  I  know  that  I  should  like  to  hear  about  it. 
You  see  what  good  care  I  take  of  my  patient." 

"  Certainly  I  do ;  but,  as  it  is  not  pleasant  for 
the  patient  always  to  be  speaking  of  his  ailments, 
suppose  we  change  the  subject." 

"  With  the  utmost  pleasure ;  they  say  that  a 
slight  fractiousness  is  a  symptom  of  convales- 
cence, and  I  think  you  are  improving.  How  do 
you  find  Stapleton  ?  Are  the  aborigines  amusing  ? 
I  have  been  told  that  I  am  to  have  the  pleasure 
of  hearing  your  voice  in  the  choir  next  Sunday ; 
I  suppose  we  may  look  shortly  for  a  study,  from 
the  pen  of  an  amateur,  of  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms of  S ,  a  typical  New  England  village, 

which  will  contain  a  glowing  description  of  Miss 
R.,  the  village  belle.  Seriously,  George,  I  should 
recommend  you  to  get  her  photograph  as  a  fron- 
tispiece ;  it  would  increase  the  sale  of  the  work. 
Really,  she  is  a  very  pretty  girl,"  Ann  went  on 
hurriedly,  for  George's  face  darkened,  and  he 
seemed  about  to  interrupt  her.  "The  story  of 
your  rescuing  her  at  the  station  would  give  a 
piquant  flavor  to  the  book." 

George  looked  uneasy.     He  wished  to  defend 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  149 

Mary  from  his  cousin's  badinage  ;  and  yet  to  take 
up  the  cudgels  for  her  in  serious  earnest  and  to 
get  angry  at  Ann's  jokes  would  be  absurd.  Ann 
thought  she  had  gone  far  enough,  and  changed 
the  subject  ;  they  talked  of  indifferent  matters 
for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  more,  and  then  she  rose 
to  go.  George  would  have  accompanied  her  ;  but 
Roger,  laughing,  pleaded  that  it  was  his  right,  and 
that,  having  brought  her  across  from  Cornlands, 
it  would  be  unfair  to  deprive  him  of  the  pleasure 
of  taking  her  back.  George  yielded  readily,  and 
Ann  and  Roger  walked  down  to  the  wharf  to  take 
the  row-boat  which  had  brought  them  over. 

But  Stapleton  was  an  easy-going  place,  where 
to  borrow  a  boat  for  a  few  minutes  without  ask- 
ing for  it  was  thought  to  be  a  mark  of  neigh- 
borly feeling ;  and  Roger  found  that  his  was  in 
temporary  use  as  tender  to  a  sail-boat  moored 
a  hundred  yards  away  from  the  wharf.  The 
owner  of  the  sail-boat,  on  being  hailed,  said  that 
he  would  come  in  to  the  wharf  in  a  moment ; 
and,  while  waiting  for  him,  Roger  and  Ann  sat 
down  on  some  cord-wood  piled  upon  the  pier, 
and  began  to  talk  over  their  scheme. 

"Well,  Mr.  Urquhart,"  began  Ann,  "why  do 
you  not  congratulate  me  on  the  success  of  my 
first  encounter  with  the 'young  person'?  Upon 


150  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

my  word,  I  have  fallen  several  degrees  in  my 
own  estimation.  I  was  routed  at  almost  every 
point,  and  I  was  so  irritated  that  I  hardly  could 
keep  my  temper  with  George.  I  was  tempted 
to  call  him  a  fool  more  than  once." 

Now  the  wood-pile,  on  the  lowest  part  of 
which  Ann  and  Roger  were  sitting,  rose  behind 
their  backs  until  it  was  more  than  six  feet  high  ; 
and,  like  a  wall,  ran  almost  the  entire  length  of 
the  wharf.  It  stood  there,  waiting  the  arrival 
of  a  rheumatic  old  sloop,  closely  resembling  a 
Chinese  junk,  which  carried  firewood  to  another 
part  of  the  coast  too  barren  to  produce  that 
commodity.  This  rheumatic  junk  did  not  ven- 
ture to  sea  save  under  a  cloudless  sky,  and, 
as  it  happened,  the  wood  had  accumulated. 
In  a  nook  on  the  other  side  of  this  great  pile, 
from  which  she  could  see  the  red  glory  of  the 
sunset  caught  up  by  the  east  and  south,  and 
mirrored  in  the  still  waters  of  the  bay,  Mary  sat 
reading.  She  had  come  down  to  the  wharf  after 
her  housework  was  finished,  partly  to  prove  to 
herself  that  she  did  appreciate  the  beauties  of 
the  scenery  of  Stapleton  ;  she  was  startled  by 
hearing  Ann's  voice  close  behind  her.  She 
caught  but  little  of  the  first  sentence,  for  she 
was  debating  with  herself  whether  she  ought  to 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  151 

go  or  to  stay.  Her  first  feeling  —  that  no  one 
had  a  right  to  drive  her  from  a  place  in  which 
she  had  a  right  to  be,  and  that,  so  long  as  she 
did  not  listen  to  what  was  said,  she  was  not 
responsible  for  what  she  overheard  —  was  giving 
way  to  a  keener  sense  of  honor,  when  a  ques- 
tion from  Roger,  every  word  of  which  she  heard 
distinctly,  changed  her  mind.  He  spoke  slowly, 
and  with  entire  freedom  from  flippancy. 

"Do  you  think,  Miss  Brattle,  that  George  is 
in  love  with  the  girl?" 

She  started,  and  strained  instinctively  to  catch 
the  answer.  In  order  to  get  away,  it  was  nec- 
essary to  pass  directly  before  Ann  and  Roger; 
and  besides,  in  her  surprise  and  excitement  she 
did  not  wish  to  get  away.  She  wished  to  listen. 
It  came  over  her  that  they  were  speaking  of  her, 
and  what  they  said  it  was  best  and  right  for  her 
to  hear.  The  fact  that  she  had  overheard  it 
thus,  might  bind  her  never  to  tell  what  she  thus 
had  learned  ;  but  she  could  not  be  prevented 
from  listening,  so  that  she  might  know  how  to 
act.  Ann's  reply  was  as  distinct  and  slow  as 
Roger's  question. 

"Yes ;  the  only  doubt  is,  how  far  it  has  gone." 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  Roger.  "  I  only  hoped 
that  you  might  think  differently." 


152  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"It  is  perfectly  clear,"  said  Ann,  "and  I  am 
very  much  afraid  that  we  are  too  late  in  trying 
to  prevent  it.  You  were  right  in  calling  her 
clever,  Mr.  Urquhart.  Poor  George  is  like  clay 
in  her  hands.  Indeed,  they  seem  to  have  come 
to  a  very  good  understanding  already.  Did  you 
notice  how  she  ogled  him  when  I  was  speaking 
to  her  ?  Oh,  yes,  in  a  few  days  I  shall  be  em- 
bracing my  new  cousin  that  is  to  be." 

"  Embracing  her!"  said  Roger,  with  something 
that  was  midway  between  a  laugh  and  a  groan. 
"Excuse  me,  but  you  look  and  speak  as  if  you 
would  embrace  her  very  warmly  indeed." 

"  Of  course  I  shall.  Mr.  Urquhart,  listen  to  a 
little  worldly  wisdom  which,  in  the  excitement 
of  the  moment,  I  suppose,  even  so  —  wise  —  a 
person  as  you  are,  seems  to  have  forgotten.  If 
your  relative  tries  to  marry  beneath  him,  oppose 
him,  try  to  prevent  him,  stand  out  against  him 
even  to  the  bitter  end  ;  but  when  it  is  all  over, 
and  the  engagement  is  announced,  do  not  delay 
an  instant,  do  not  wait  even  to  put  on  a  wed- 
ding garment,  but  embrace  the  bride  on  the 
spot,  and  you  will  have  saved  a  family  quarrel  ; 
your  friend  will  forgive  you,  for  he  will  need 
your  moral  help  in  his  struggle  with  those  of 
his  family  who  are  not  so  wise  as  you,  and  the 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  153 

woman  —  why,  even  if  that  girl  overheard  every 
word  I  am  saying  to  you  now,  still,  by  the  very 
force  of  circumstances,  I  should  be  her  main- 
stay and  warmest  friend  within  a  week  after  her 
engagement  to  George  came  out.  However,  I 
shall  not  give  up  the  fight ;  yet  if  we  can  escape 
to-morrow's  picnic,  we  still  may  win  with  Clara 
Ellison." 

Roger  rose  and  strode  moodily  up  and  down 
before  Ann,  his  face  so  gloomy  that  even  she 
hardly  could  avoid  smiling. 

"  I  wish  I  lived  in  the  good  old  times,"  he 
burst  out,  "  and  could  bring  a  band  of  followers 
into  the  village  to-night,  carry  her  off,  and  make 
an  end  of  it  all." 

"The  modern  equivalent  of  that  would  be  to 
poison  her  tea,  I  suppose ;  which  would  be  far 
too  melodramatic,  and  besides,  would  be  hardly 
safe.  I  don't  wish  to  disturb  the  pleasant  course 
of  your  reflections,"  she  said  again,  after  a 
moment's  pause,  "but  there  is  the  man  who 
borrowed  your  boat  ;  I  suppose  we  had  better 
go  over  to  Cornlands." 

Roger  put  her  into  the  boat  without  saying 
anything,  and  pushed  off  from  the  wharf.  For 
several  minutes  thereafter,  Mary  sat  still,  gazing 
fixedly  at  the  water  below  her.  When  Roger 


154  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

and  Ann  were  gone  so  far  off  that  they  could 
not  see  her  if  she  left  her  hiding-place,  she  rose, 
picked  up  her  book,  walked  slowly  to  the  house 
and  quickly  through  it  upstairs  to  her  own  room, 
where  she  shut  the  door. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  155 


X. 


morning  of  the  Fourth  of  July  was  as 
-*-  fair  as  even  the  boys  could  have  wished,  — 
to  Roger's  disgust,  and  to  George's  delight. 
When  the  two  young  men  came  down  to  break- 
fast, Roger  watched  Mary  closely,  hoping  to 
make  out  from  her  face  the  effect  which  Ann's 
visit  of  the  day  before  had  wrought  on  her. 
He  was  not  surprised  that  she  seemed  to  look 
on  him  with  more  dislike  than  she  had  shown 
before.  He  believed  that  she  was  clever  enough 
to  find  out  the  object  of  Ann's  visit,  and  to  rec- 
ognize his  share  in  it  ;  but  he  could  not  under- 
stand altogether  her  treatment  of  George.  She 
said  nothing  to  him,  scarcely  answered  his  ques- 
tions, and  seemed  nervous,  and  very  unlike  her 
usual  calm  self.  Yet  he  was  sure  that  once 
or  twice  he  caught  her  looking  attentively  at 
George  as  if  she  expected  to  read  something  in 
his  face,  taking  very  good  care  to  do  this  when 
his  eyes  were  turned  another  way.  The  crisis 
came  when  breakfast  was  nearly  over. 


156  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

"  Well,  Mary,"  said  her  father,  "  have  you 
made  up  your  mind  ?  Are  you  going  to  the 
picnic  to-day  ? " 

Roger  waited  eagerly  for  her  answer.  While 
Ann  and  George  were  talking  together  the  even- 
ing before,  he  went  into  the  house  for  a  minute 
or  two,  and  he  heard  Mary,  in  answer  to  the 
same  question  from  her  mother,  say  that  she 
believed  that  she  should  stay  at  home.  At  the 
time,  he  supposed  that  she  had  not  then  heard 
of  Jane  Thomas's  invitation  to  George,  and  of 
his  acceptance.  Now,  he  watched  to  see  if  she 
had  found  this  out  in  the  mean  time.  But  before 
she  could  answer,  George  looked  anxiously  across 
the  table",  and  said,  "  I  hope  you  are  going,  Miss 
Rogers.  Miss  Thomas  was  kind  enough  yes- 
terday to  ask  me  to  go  myself,  and  I  - 
'  As  he  spoke,  Roger,  who  was  watching  Mary 
closely,  saw  her  start  slightly,  look  quickly  across 
the  table  toward  George,  and  then  heard  her 
answer  her  father  as  if  she  were  trying  to  speak 
naturally,  "  Yes,  I  shall  go." 

The  picnic  party  did  not  leave  Stapleton  until 
the  afternoon  ;  and  it  was  after  his  early  dinner 
that  Roger  took  his  boat  and  crossed  the  bay 
to  Cornlands.  He  found  Ann  sitting  alone  on 
the  piazza. 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  157 

"  Well,  what  news  ? "  she  said,  as  he  came  up. 
"You  did  not  bid  high  enough  for  rain  to-day." 

He  told  her  what  he  had  heard  on  the  evening 
before,  and  at  breakfast  on  that  day.  "  I  think 
she  is  frightened,  and  means  to  force  matters, 
though  she  acted  rather  queerly,"  he  added. 

"  Stay  and  ride  with  us  this  afternoon,"  said 
Ann.  "  We  will  get  Hildegarde  to  take  us  to 
this  picnic.  I  don't  know  why  it  is  that  when 
we  can  do  absolutely  nothing  to  keep  off  an  im- 
pending evil,  we  wish  always  to  have  a  good 
view  of  the  catastrophe.  I  suppose  that  we  are 
not  willing  to  miss  the  excitement.  We  don't 
want  it  to  come  about ;  but,  if  it  must  come,  we 
are  curious  animals  'and  would  not  leave  it  un- 
seen for  worlds." 

Hildegarde  came  out  of  the  house  at  this 
moment,  and  agreed  to  guide  them  later  in  the 
afternoon  to  Lake  Marby,  the  scene  of  the  pic- 
nic. "  It  is  the  place  to  which  we  take  our 
guests  when  we  want  to  show  them  that  there 
are  truly  very  beautiful  spots  near  Stapleton," 
she  said. 

Her  coming  changed,  of  course,  the  conversa- 
tion altogether.  At  first  Roger  resented  this  ; 
for,  though  he  had  nothing  in  particular  to  say, 
he  had  a  burning  desire  to  talk  over  and  over 


158  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

again  the  matter  which  was  nearest  his  heart ; 
as  if,  by  winnowing  and  re-winnowing  his  own 
ideas  and  those  of  Ann,  some  valuable  grains  of 
subtle  scheming  might  yet  be  found.  His  mind 
had  been  wrought  almost  to  fever  heat  in  the 
past  few  days,  and  it  was  some  little  time  be- 
fore he  remembered  what  Hildegarde  was  saying, 
from  sentence  to  sentence.  There  was  a  sooth- 
ing power,  however,  both  in  her  voice  and  man- 
ner. She  never  was  in  a  hurry  ;  however  quickly 
she  might  move  or  speak,  it  was  always  with 
the  certainty  of  reaching  the  goal  in  time.  Her 
conversation  was  not  remarkable  ;  she  was  a 
young  girl  scarcely  yet  in  society,  but  there  was 
in  her  no  anxiety  lest  she  should  not  be  talking 
well,  so  that  Roger,  who  had  been  somewhat 
wearied  by  Ann,  and  who,  moreover,  could  not 
forgive  her  altogether  for  taking  George's  affairs 
so  calmly,  found  himself  listening  to  Hildegarde 
in  a  happier  frame  of  mind  than  he  had  known 
for  some  time.  He  thought  that  Ann  looked 
on  George's  love  affairs  rather  as  an  occasion 
for  an  interesting  struggle  with  Mary,  than  as  a 
most  serious  crisis  in  the  life  of  a  dear  friend  ; 
she  was  not  moved  so  much  as  he  had  hoped 
even  by  the  idea  of  the  family  connection. 
Then,  too,  Ann  knew,  as  he  feared,  what  he  had 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  159 

said  to  George  about  Hildegarde,  and  now  he 
felt  that  he  should  be  sincerely  sorry  if  his 
remarks  ever  came  to  Hildegarde's  ears.  Thus 
the  afternoon  passed  away  until  they  mounted 
their  horses  and  rode  toward  Lake  Marby. 

Thither  from  all  the  country  round  had  come 
children  and  young  people  for  the  great  picnic. 
Running  out  into  a  lake  several  miles  in  length, 
almost  cutting  it  in  two,  was  a  peninsula  just 
connected  with  the  mainland  ;  on  it  rose  a  high 
bluff  from  which  you  looked  down  upon  either 
half  of  the  blue  lake,  on  whose  surface  small 
thickly  wooded  islands  seemed  to  float,  for  the 
shrubs,  crowded  down  to  the  water's  edge,  hung 
their  thickly  matted  branches  out  so  far  that  no 
beach  could  be  seen,  and  the  water,  disappearing 
among  the  leaves  and  twigs,  seemed  to  reach 
far  under  the  island  and  bear  it  up.  Beyond 
the  bluff,  farther  out  in  the  lake,  the  peninsula 
widened,  with  thick  swampy  jungles  and  groves 
of  beech  and  birch  ;  to  those  who  had  lived 
among  the  scrubby  oaks  and  pines  of  the  sur- 
rounding country,  it  was  as  though  the  beauty 
of  the  lake  had  drawn  to  it  trees  and  shrubs 
and  wild  grasses  which  would  not  grow  in  less 
favored  places. 

The  children  were  playing  about,  now  under 


160  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

cover  of  a  friendly  clump  of  trees,  escaping  to 
the  shore  where  they  could  dabble  in  the  water 
undisturbed  by  their  mothers'  fears,  now  swing- 
ing, playing  base-ball  or  tag,  or  watching  the 
mysterious  ceremonies  of  a  clam-bake  which 
had  been  intrusted  to  several  of  the  larger  boys 
on  Mary's  suggestion  ;  for  she  had  feared  that 
otherwise  the  peninsula  would  be  hardly  large 
enough  to  contain  their  exuberant  spirits,  and 
hoped  besides  that  the  worship  of  this  milder 
god  of  fire  would  be  an  acceptable  substitute 
for  reverencing  his  Chinese  brother  with  fire- 
crackers. 

George  did  not  find  the  picnic  so  inspiriting  a 
festival  as  he  had  hoped.  The  society  of  Staple- 
ton  was  well  represented  on  the  female  side,  —  it 
being  midsummer,  most  of  the  men  were  at  sea, — 
but  even  the  charms  of  Miss  Thomas  did  not 
make  up  for  the  fact  that  Mary  stayed  in  the 
midst  of  her  pupils,  telling  a  story  to  the 
younger  ones,  going  off  to  look  at  the  clam- 
bake and  to  give  advice  thereon  when  asked  by 
an  older  boy,  patching  up  the  wounded  clothes 
and  feelings  of  another,  and  acting  as  general 
referee  on  all  occasions.  George  would  have 
liked  to  watch  her,  if  it  were  not  that  he  had 
hoped  for  something  better,  and  also  that  it  would 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  161 

have  been  decidedly  conspicuous  to  do  nothing 
else.  He  tried  to  help  her  amuse  the  children. 
She  thanked  him,  but  there  did  not  seem  much 
for  him  to  do,  and  besides,  even  if  she  wished 
his  help,  of  which  George  was  very  doubtful,  it 
was  entirely  clear  that  the  children  did  not.  So 
time  passed  away  until  the  clam-bake  was  opened 
and  the  other  provisions  brought  out,  when 
Mary  turned  to  George,  who  happened  to  be 
standing  near  her,  and  said,  "  Have  you  been 
along  the  shore  through  the  woods  ? " 

"  No,"  said  George,  wondering  if  this  were  a 
dismissal ;  "  I  have  been  watching  the  children." 

"  You  ought  to  see  the  place  ;  it  is  very 
pretty,"  said  Mary,  abruptly.  "  Let  me  show 
you  the  way;"  and  she  led  on  across  the  open 
space  where  the  company  were  scattered  about 
in  groups,  eating  their  supper. 

The  woods  were  tangled,  and  the  ground  cov- 
ered with  underbrush.  It  was  by  a  path  which 
some  cows,  pastured  in  a  field  beyond,  had  bro- 
ken out,  that  Mary,  stooping  her  head  and  dash- 
ing the  branches  aside  with  her  hands,  led  the 
way  so  vigorously  that  George  hardly  could  keep 
up  with  her,  and  missed  entirely  the  occasional 
vistas  through  which  the  lake  could  be  seen. 
At  last  they  came  to  an  open  space  from  which 
ii 


1 62  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

they  looked  out  on  the  strait  joining  the  two 
parts  of  the  lake,  and  across  it,  into  a  lovely 
little  bay  framed  by  the  trees  on  the  opposite 
shore. 

"It  is  very  pretty,  isn't  it?"  said  Mary,  stop- 
ping short  and  looking  off  at  the  water. 

"Yes,"  said  George,  trying  to  discover  some 
new  complimentary  adjective  for  the  scene.  He 
had  no  time  for  his  search,  however,  for  Mary 
broke  in,  turning  round  upon  him  quickly. 

"  I  am  tired,  Mr.  Holyoke ;  let  us  sit  down 
for  a  moment  —  if  you  wish,"  she  added,  turning 
away  again. 

As  she  did  so,  a  strange  look  came  into 
George's  face  ;  he  silently  assented,  and  followed 
her  to  the  edge  of  the  low  bank  that  ran  down 
to  the  water.  Mary  seated  herself,  leaning  her 
back  against  a  fantastically  shaped  pine-tree 
which  thrust  out  its  grotesque  arms  in  all  direc- 
tions above  her;  George  threw  himself  on  the 
ground  in  front  of  her,  nervously  pulling  up 
the  grass-blades  within  his  reach.  There  was 
a  -pause  which  Mary  broke,  speaking  at  first 
quickly,  and  as  if  she  were  repeating  a  lesson 
learned  by  rote,  though  her  voice  soon  became 
more  natural. 

"Mr.  Holyoke,  it  was  some  days  since  that 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  163 

you  allowed  me  to  call  you  my  friend.  I  did  so 
because  I  believed  that  you  were  my  friend,  for 
you  had  treated  me  very  kindly,  and  I  thought 
you  would  not  object  to  the  name  ;  I  think  now 
that  I  was  right." 

"  Miss  Rogers,"  burst  out  George,  raising  him- 
self up,  "  you  know  —  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  do  know  it,"  said  Mary,  quickly, 
interrupting  him.  "  Well,  as  you  are  my  friend, 
I  should  like  to  treat  you  as  one,  and  tell  you 
some  things  about  myself  that  I  would  not  tell 
except  to  a  friend,  —  some  of  them  things  that 
I  should  like  for  you  to  know,  because  I  think 
that  if  you  did  not  know  them  you  would  mis- 
judge me  ;  yes,  you  hardly  could  help  misjudging 
me,"  she  went  on,  seeing  that  George  wished  to 
speak.  "  I  mean  to  talk  perfectly  frankly  to  you  ; 
and  I  hope,"  she  said,  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, "  that  what  I  say  may  interest  you  enough 
to  be  worth  your  hearing.  Of  course,  the  social 
station  to  which  I  have  been  born  is  not  the 
most  fashionable,  perhaps  it  is  not  the  best, 
but  I  —  " 

George,  who  had  been  looking  down  at  the 
ground,  now  raised  his  head,  his  face  flushing. 
"  Of  what  consequence  —  "  he  began  passionately. 

"  Mr.  Holyoke,  you  must  not  interrupt  me," 


1 64  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

said  Mary,  quietly.  "  You  must  hear  me  to  the 
end  without  speaking.  As  I  said,  my  social 
position  is  not  as  good,  in  many  ways,  as  that  of 
some  of  the  people  I  see ;  but,  after  trying  to 
find  out  my  own  feelings,  I  do  not  think  I  have 
been  discontented  often  ;  I  have  a  certain  pride 
in  being  descended  from  the  Pilgrims,  and  if  I 
choose  to  imagine  that  I  am  as  good  as  any  lady 
whom  I  meet,  there  is  no  one  to  gainsay  me.  I 
think  that  if  I  lived  in  a  foreign  country  where 
I  was  expected  to  show  my  inferiority  by  some 
kind  of  submission,  I  should  be  discontented;  but, 
as  an  American,  I  am  not.  From  several  things 
that  I  have  said  to  you,  particularly  when  we  first 
met,  I  am  afraid  that  I  did  not  seem  satisfied 
with  my  lot ;  and,  as  I  am  telling  you  the  whole 
truth,  I  must  confess  that  I  did  not  like  the  idea 
of  your  coming  to  board  with  us.  For  myself," 
she  said,  with  an  emphasis  on  those  two  words, 
"  I  can  say  now  that  I  am  glad  you  did  come.  I 
have  passed  more  time  away  from  Stapleton  than 
most  of  my  friends,  and,  though  I  know  I  love 
the  place  more  than  they  do,  I  have  more  curi- 
osity than  they  have  to  know  about  other  places. 
That  was  the  main  reason  why  I  talked  as  I  did 
about  the  city.  If  I  was  rude  to  your  cousin 
yesterday,  it  was,"  —  she  paused  for  an  instant,  — 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  165 

"to  speak  perfectly  freely,  because  I  thought 
that  she  was  not  quite  kind  to  me.  Perhaps  I 
was  mistaken  ;  at  any  rate,  I  am  very  sorry.  Now, 
Mr.  Holyoke,  you  are  a  gentleman,  an  American 
and  a  Yankee,  and  I  think  you  can  understand 
what  I  mean  when  I  say  that  I  am  contented 
to  live  in  Stapleton,  but  that  I  do  not  mean  to 
shut  my  mind  up  in  it.  But,"  she  went  on,  not 
giving  George  time  enough  to  speak,  alternately 
glancing  at  him  and  looking  away  from  him,  as 
she  spoke  slowly,  "  I  have  another  reason  for 
being  contented  with  Stapleton,  —  a  reason  that 
very  few  people  know,  one  that  I  want  to  tell 
you,  because  you  have  been  kind  enough  to  call 
yourself  my  friend.  I  am  in  love,  Mr.  Holyoke, 
and  I  am  so  happy  as  to  know  that  my  love  is 
returned.  We  were  brought  up  together  here 
in  Stapleton ;  it  must  have  been  here  that  we 
began  to  love  each  other,  though  I  do  not  re- 
member that  our  love  ever  had  a  beginning.  It 
was  here  three  years  ago,  before  he  went  whaling, 
that  he  asked  me  to  marry  him  when  he  came 
back,  and  it  is  here,  I  suppose,  that  we  shall  live 
out  our  lives.  I  am  content." 

As  she  was  speaking  these  last  words,  there 
was  a  crashing  among  the  bushes  a  hundred 
yards  behind  them,  though  neither  George  nor 


166  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

Mary  heard  it,  and  Hildegarde's  black  horse 
forced  its  way  through,  his  mistress's  head  bent 
low  on  his  neck,  to  shield  her  face  from  the  bushes. 
An  instant  later,  Ann  followed,  less  accustomed 
to  the  rough  riding,  and  trying  to  beat  off  the 
branches  with  her  arms.  When  she  reached  a 
place  where,  through  a  gap  in  the  leaves,  she 
caught  sight  of  the  open  ground,  and  of  George 
and  Mary,  she  reined  in  her  horse  with  an  excla- 
mation that  made  Roger  start  as  he  came  up  be- 
side her. 

"  What  ought  ladies  to  say  when  they  want  to 
swear,  Mr.  Urquhart  ?  Look  at  that!"  and  she 
pointed  with  her  whip.  "What  would  you  give 
for  our  chances  now  —  that  much?"  she  said, 
snapping  her  fingers.  "  I  think  we  may  con- 
gratulate ourselves  on  having  seen  the  catas- 
trophe. Come  ! "  and  she  struck  her  horse  so 
sharply  that  he  started  forward  suddenly,  brush- 
ing Ann's  face  against  an  overhanging  branch. 
Roger  followed  with  something  very  like  a  real 
oath,  and  they  soon  joined  Hildegarde  in  the 
open  country  beyond. 

There  was  a  pause  after  Mary  had  finished 
speaking,  which  she  broke  herself. 

"Very  few  people  know  of  this,  Mr.  Holyoke. 
He  was  attentive  to  me  —  so  they  said  —  before 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  167 

he  went  away  ;  but  that  was  three  years  ago, 
and  the  village  has  forgotten  all  about  it  by  this 
time,  except,  perhaps,  his  family  and  mine,  and 
even  they  knew  very  little  more  than  they  saw. 
He  is  on  his  way  home  now.  He  is  to  stop  at 
Savannah,  for  some  reason  I  do  not  know.  He 
will  write  me  from  there.  He  will  be  home  in  a 
month,  perhaps  ;  and  then  I  suppose  we  shall  be 
married.  I  hope  you  will  come  to  our  wedding, 
Mr.  Holyoke." 

"  I  shall  try  to,"  said  George,  mechanically,  after 
a  moment's  pause,  looking  away  at  the  lake. 

"  I  wish  you  knew  Herman.  You  would  know, 
then,  how  fortunate  I  am.  Of  course  I  do  not 
need  your  approval,"  she  went  on,  as  George  did 
not  answer ;  "  but  it  would  be  very  pleasant  for 
me  to  know  that  you  appreciated  him." 

"  Miss  Rogers,"  said  George,  speaking  slowly 
and  quietly,  "  there  is  one  man  in  the  world  who 
has  every  reason  to  be  completely  happy.  For 
myself,  I  am  most  proud  that  you  should  think 
me  your  friend,  and  that  you  should  have  hon- 
ored me  as  you  have  done.  Shall  we  go  back 
to  the  picnic  ?  They  will  be  expecting  us  there." 

"  Well,  Ann,  I  hope  you  have  enjoyed  your 
ride,"  said  Mrs.  Standish,  greeting  the  party 
as  they  came  back  to  Cornlands.  "  I  am  afraid 


1 68  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

that  Hildegarde  has  taken  you  rather  a  rough 
road." 

"  Oh,  I  assure  you  it  was  very  pleasant,"  said 
Ann.  "The  road  was  rather  rough  here  and 
there ;  but  we  were  so  much  taken  up  with  the 
beautiful  sights  that  we  did  not  notice  it,  —  did 
we,  Mr.  Urquhart  ?  " 

"  It  is  only  fair  to  Miss  Standish,"  said  Roger, 
"  to  confess  that  we  asked  her  to  take  us  to  Lake 
Marby,  and  that  she  acted  merely  as  guide." 

"  It  will  be  supper-time  soon,  Ann,"  said  Mrs. 
Standish.  "  I  expect  Clara  Ellison  and  Harry 
Larkyns  here  every  moment.  I  will  send  my 
maid  to  help  you  dress,  if  you  like,  dear.  Mr. 
Urquhart,  I  trust  you  will  stay  to  supper." 

Both  Ann  and  Roger  were  on  the  point  of 
refusing  Mrs.  Standish's  offers,  when  Ann,  who 
abhorred  help  at  her  toilet,  recollected  that  her 
hostess's  maid  was  a  Stapleton  girl,  and  thought 
she  might  hear  from  her  something  about  Mary  ; 
while  Roger  came  to  the  conclusion  that,  dis- 
agreeable as  Cornlands  would  be  to  him  in  his 
present  frame  of  mind,  Stapleton  would  be  even 
worse.  Ann  scarcely  had  entered  her  chamber, 
when  the  maid  came  in. 

"You  belong  here  in  Stapleton,  do  you  not  ?  " 
said  Ann,  as  the  woman  helped  her  in  dressing. 


DIMPLY  A    LOVE-STORY.  169 

"Yes'm." 

"  Do  you  have  much  gayety  here,  —  many 
balls,  and  that  sort  of  thing  ? " 

"Oh,  yes'm,  plenty  in  the  winter  time;  there 
is  not  any  at  this  season  ;  all  the  young  men  are 
away  at  sea." 

"But  in  the  winter  time  they  come  home  and 
dance  with  the  pretty  girls,  I  suppose  ?  Are 
there  many  pretty  girls  here  ?  Who  is  the 
favorite  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  'm.  Most  of  the  young 
men  like  Jane  Thomas  the  best.  She  has  pleas- 
ant ways  with  her  ;  but  I  guess  Mary  Rogers 
is  the  handsomest.  She  is  so  kind  of  top-lofty, 
though,  that  many  don't  like  her  so  well." 

"  Is  n't  she  the  daughter  of  Captain  Rogers, 
and  does  n't  she  teach  school  somewhere  near 
here?"  said  Ann. 

"Yes  'm  ;  over  to  Sanket." 

"Hasn't  her  family  taken  boarders  this  year?" 
Ann  went  on. 

"  Yes  'm  ;  two  young  men  from  the  city.  They 
have  been  here  more  than  a  week,  and  seem  to 
be  very  quiet  and  pleasant  spoken.  Mis'  Rogers 
told  me  that  one  of  'em  was  very  pleasant  and 
accommodatin',"  said  the  girl,  beginning  to  open 
her  heart. 


1 70  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"I  have  seen  her,"  said  Ann.  "She  certainly 
is  very  pretty.  And  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that 
none  of  your  young  men  have  gone  courting 
there?  They  must  have  very  bad  taste." 

"  Oh,  there  has  been  plenty  to  go  a  courtin', 
but  it  has  n't  done  'em  much  good." 

"  What !  has  n't  she  smiled  on  any  one  ?  Is  n't 
there  anybody  she  is  willing  to  take  ? " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  ;  two  or  three  years  ago 
they  did  say  she  was  rather  sweet  on  a  sort  of 
cousin  of  mine,  Herman  Crocker." 

"And  what  has  become  of  him?"  said  Ann, 
sitting  down  before  the  glass. 

"  He  went  whaling  for  three  years.  He  's  to 
be  back  soon,  and  his  sister  was  telling  me  the 
other  day  that  Mary  had  never  looked  at  any 
one  since  he  left.  I  don't  know  anything  about 
it,  but  she  said  it  was  so." 

As  the  maid  finished  speaking,  Ann  looked 
up  at  the  glass  to  arrange  her  hair.  She  had 
forgotten  everything  about  her  afternoon's  ride, 
except  the  one  thing  that  had  made  it  memo- 
rable ;  but  as  she  looked  at  her  own  face,  she  saw 
an  ugly  red  scratch  across  one  cheek,  and  remem- 
bered how  she  had  been  struck  by  the  branch 
of  a  tree  when  her  horse  started  just  after  she 
had  seen  George  and  Mary.  She  did  not  push 
her  inquiry  any  further. 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  171 

"  One  's  sisters  should  be  very  careful  before 
they  say  a  thing  of  that  kind ;  they  don't  see 
everything.  If  I  were  the  gentleman  you  speak 
of,  I  think  I  should  be  rather  jealous  of  one  of 
the  summer  boarders,  particularly  if  I  had  been 
at  the  picnic  to-day  at  Lake  What 's  his  name." 

"  Lake  Marby,  ma'am.     Why  ? " 

There  was  a  pause  after  the  maid's  interroga- 
tion mark ;  then  Ann  spoke,  looking  down  :  "  I 
should  hardly  like  to  have  the  girl  I  was  atten- 
tive to,  wandering  round  with  another  young 
man  in  the  woods,  or  sitting  down  on  the  shore 
of  the  lake  and  staring  off  at  the  water,  with 
him  to  talk  to  her  ;  but  perhaps  you  do  these 
things  differently  down  here.  Look  out!  Don't 
brush  my  face  ;  it  hurts  where  I  got  that  scratch 
riding  through  your  jungles." 

"  Yes  'm,"  said  the  maid,  meekly.  "  I  don't  know 
about  it ;  but  I  thought  from  what  Herman's  sis- 
ter said,  that  he  sort  of  meant  to  take  up  with 
Mary  Rogers  when  he  got  home,  but  perhaps 
not." 

"  I  suppose,  even  if  Herman,  as  you  call  him, 
meant  to,  that  is  no  reason  why  Miss  Rogers 
should  not  think  otherwise."  Then,  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause,  "  However,  there  is  nothing,  that 
I  know  of,  to  prevent  a  girl  from  taking  a  walk 


1/2  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

with  a  gentleman.  I  have  done  it  myself,  and 
I  never  intended  even  to  flirt  with  him  ;  besides, 
three  years  is  a  good  while." 

The  conversation  ended  here,  and  Ann  went 
down  to  supper,  reflecting  rather  anxiously  that 
it  would  be  disagreeable  if  her  conversation 
should  reach  Mary's  ears  after  she  became  en- 
gaged to  George,  and  wishing  that  she  had  not 
gone  quite  so  far. 

Clara  Ellison  had  reached  Cornlands  ;  but 
Harry  Larkyns,  who  was  to  have  been  her  escort, 
had  been  kept  in  the  city,  Mr.  Standish,  who  had 
stolen  away  from  business,  taking  his  place.  He 
was  an  elderly  gentleman,  whose  only  fault  arose 
from  the  fact  that  generations  of  cultivated  an- 
cestors had  so  refined  his  mental  vision  that  he 
failed  to  use  great  natural  abilities,  because  he 
saw  too  clearly  the  excesses  and  errors  of  those 
who  would  have  been  his  associates.  But  if  he 
had  not  accomplished  much  in  the  world,  he  had 
not  failed  to  be  a  gentleman  ;  and  if  his  name 
were  not  widely  known,  the  charm  of  his  man- 
ners, springing  from  the  gentleness  and  purity 
of  his  mind,  made  his  character  much  respected 
by  those  whom  he  met.  Ann  knew  him  well, 
and  was  honest  enough  to  recognize  that  in  her 
present  frame  of  mind  she  probably  should  say 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  173 

something  which  would  not  please  him.  Ac- 
cordingly she  so  arranged  it  at  the  supper  table 
that  he  and  Clara  Ellison  were  placed  together, 
and  then  with  a  strong  effort  she  kept  silence. 
But  she  could  not  restrain  herself,  when,  as  they 
left  the  supper  table,  Clara  turned  to  Roger, 
and  said  :  "  How  have  you  enjoyed  yourself  in 
Stapleton,  Mr.  Urquhart  ?  When  I  see  you 
here,  though,  I  suppose  I  hardly  need  ask." 

Before  he  could  answer,  Ann  broke  in :  "  In- 
deed, you  had  better  ask  him !  You  cannot 
imagine  how  we  have  been  wishing  for  Harry 
Larkyns  to  dissipate  the  gloom  ;  really,  Mr. 
Urquhart  has  plunged  us  in  the  deepest  melan- 
choly. As  for  me,  I  have  tried  all  the  old 
subjects  that  used  to  irritate —  I  beg  pardon,  to 
interest — him,  but  it  is  of  no  use.  I  believe 
that  he  is  angry  because  he  is  in  love  with  some 
village  beauty  and  my  Cousin  George  has  for- 
bidden him  to  speak  to  her;  you  look  upon 
George  as  your  keeper  in  a  measure,  don't  you, 
Mr.  Urquhart  ? " 

"  Very  much  so,  of  course,"  said  Roger  ;  then, 
as  Ann  passed  through  the  door,  he  said  to  Clara 
loud  enough  for  Ann  to  hear:  "What  a  bless- 
ing it  must  be  to  have  such  spirits  as  Miss 
Brattle  always  has  ! " 


1/4  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"It  is  a  great  blessing,  I  assure  you,"  said 
Ann  ;  "  it  has  enabled  me  to  bear  a  good  deal 
lately.  Do  you  know,  Clara,  that  piece  of  sar- 
casm is  the  most  promising  rise  I  have  got  out 
of  him  for  some  time.  But  just  look  how  he 
has  quieted  down  after  it ;  it  is  really  sad  to  see 
him." 

They  all  passed  out  upon  the  piazza,  where 
Roger,  after  a  few  commonplaces  exchanged 
with  Clara,  lapsed  into  silence  as  the  conversa- 
tion became  general.  Without  listening  to  what 
was  said,  he  sat  staring  moodily  across  the  bay 
to  the  lights  of  Stapleton,  mentally  cursing  the 
place  and  all  its  belongings  most  heartily.  If 
he  had  been  a  little  cooler,  he  might  have  been 
surprised  at  the  depth  of  his  affection  for  George. 
As  it  was,  he  knew  simply  that  he  was  disgusted 
with  everything,  from  the  friend  he  would  have 
given  so  much  to  save,  to  the  woman  that  friend 
viciously  persisted  in  marrying.  Instinctively 
he  turned  his  face,  which  was  set  and  furrowed, 
away  from  the  rest  of  the  company,  unconscious 
that  the  moon  now  shone  full  upon  it. 

"  Mr.  Urquhart,  I  am  sorry  that  you  have 
been  troubled  this  evening,"  said  a  voice  beside 
and  above  him,  clear,  but  so  low  as  not  to 
interrupt  the  rest  of  the  conversation. 


SIMPL Y  A   LO VE-S TOR Y.  175 

Roger  sprang  up  with  a  start,  face  to  face  with 
Hildegarde,  who  was  standing  just  before  him 
in  the  open  window. 

"  Miss  Standish  !  Why,  I  thought  you  were 
on  the  piazza. !  You  look  like  a  vision,  there." 

"  My  sister  was  not  quite  well,  and  I  have 
been  upstairs  with  her,"  said  Hildegarde,  as  she 
stepped  out  of  the  house. 

Standing  as  he  did,  Roger  saw  the  clock  in 
the  drawing-room. 

"  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late,"  he  said.  "  I 
must  go  back  to  Stapleton,  unless  "  —  he  added 
with  sudden  compunction  —  "  you  think  it  rude 
of  me  to  leave  just  as  you  have  come." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Hildegarde,  taking  the 
hand  he  held  out.  "  Pleasant  dreams  to  you 
to-night,  Mr.  Urquhart." 

As  Roger  strolled  away,  he  wondered  why  he 
was  not  more  provoked  at  the  sympathy  thus 
thrust  upon  him  unsought. 


176  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 


XL 

THE  next  morning  Roger,  grown  more  philo- 
sophical, went  down  to  breakfast  with  his 
mind  hardened  to  bear  the  news  of  the  great 
calamity  which  had  befallen  his  friend  ;  but  he 
was  very  much  perplexed  at  what  he  saw. 
George,  indeed,  did  not  seem  like  his  usual  self, 
but  certainly  his  appearance  did  not  savor  of 
hilarity.  Nay,  with  the  very  best  intentions  of 
discovering  joy  hidden  beneath  apparent  uncon- 
cern, Roger  could  discover  nothing  in  the  least 
cheerful  in  his  friend's  face  and  manner,  while 
Captain  and  Mrs.  Rogers  were  utterly  uncon- 
scious. Mary  did  not  appear  ;  and  Roger,  after 
waiting  in  the  hope  that  her  father  or  mother 
would  explain  her  absence,  at  last,  asked  for 
himself.  In  reply,  Mrs.  Rogers  told  him  that, 
the  measles  having  broken  out  in  the  village  of 
Sanket,  the  school  had  been  closed  for  a  time, 
while  Mary  herself  was  gone  for  a  visit  to  her 
grandfather,  an  old  man  in  failing  health,  who 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  177 

lived  some  miles  from  Stapleton.  He  thought 
George's  face  betrayed  that  all  this  was  not 
news  to  him  ;  but  really  he  was  so  much  amazed 
at  his  friend's  conduct,  that  he  could  form  no 
explanation  at  all  satisfactory  to  himself. 

When,  however,  after  breakfast,  he  suggested 
a  visit  to  Cornlands,  as  a  feeler  for  the  state  of 
George's  mind,  he  was  bewildered  again  by  the 
emphasis  with  which  his  friend  refused,  suggest- 
ing a  day  at  the  brook  instead.  To  the  brook 
they  went  accordingly,  George  silent  and  almost 
morose,  scarcely  smiling  even  when  Roger,  as 
they  parted  for  the  fishing,  wished  him  good 
luck  to  improve  his  temper. 

Canon  Kingsley  has  told  in  prose  which  is 
more  than  half  poetry,  how  the  glory  of  one 
British  salmon  river  differs  from  that  of  another. 
There  is  not  a  trout  fisherman  in  New  England 
who  does  not  believe  that  its  trout  brooks  are 
worthy  of  a  more  eloquent  picture. 

The  little  stream  which  comes  down  the  sides 
of  the  White  Mountains,  bringing  a  few  tiny 
cupfuls  of  water,  like  the  diamond  making  up 
in  its  purity  and  brightness  what  it  wants  in 
abundance,  seeming  so  cold  and  hard  that  it  has 
a  strange  resemblance  and  fitness  to  the  cold, 
hard  rocks  that  hold  it  ;  owing  its  freshness  to 
12 


1 78  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

no  leafy  shade,  but  pure  and  cool  because  it 
has  been  always  pure  and  cool,  and  so  keeping 
its  freshness  as  well  in  the  broad  glare  of  the 
sun  as  when  resting  deep  in  the  shade  of  rock 
or  tree,  —  if  we  could  meet  the  guardian  spirit 
of  such  a  stream,  we  should  see  a  fair-haired 
girl  who  had  looked  the  sun  so  freely  in  the  face 
that,  charmed  by  her  frankness,  he  had  blessed 
her  with  his  radiance  and  had  not  burned  her 
with  his  fire;  to  whose  eyes  the  heavens  by  day 
had  lent  their  color,  and  the  heavens  by  night 
their  brightness,  and  whose  lips  alone  the  cold 
winds  of  her  native  mountains  had  kissed. 

Then  there  is  the  broad  stream  that  rolls  its 
lazy  waters  between  clipped  lawns  and  under 
magnificent  elms  and  willows  ;  a  proud  aristo- 
crat, yet  careless  to  what  marsh  it  owes  its  birth 
so  long  as  it  is  delicately  nurtured  now,  trained 
to  show  itself  to  the  best  advantage  by  a  rustic 
bridge  that  tries  in  vain  to  imitate  the  fallen 
tree  or  accidental  boulder  of  its  mountain 
brother,  or  by  an  artfully  planted  clump  of  trees 
or  cunningly  conceived  summer-house,  feeding 
its  gluttonous  denizens  on  the  crumbs  that  fall 
from  the  rich  man's  table.  You  need  not  look 
far  for  its  guardian  spirit,  for  she  walks  its 
banks  in  broad  daylight  with  a  Gainsborough 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  179 

hat,  and  a  dress  which  some  simple  folk  may 
think  as  simple  as  themselves.  Beware  lest  she 
prove,  with  the  fish  that  swim  below  her,  wary, 
hard  to  catch,  large  and  showy  when  caught, 
but  when  turned  to  the  plain  uses  of  every-day 
life,  not  so  good  as  their  small  kinsmen  of  the 
hills,  who  are  so  hungry  that  they  are  always 
greedy,  but  have  no  time  to  be  gluttonous. 

The  brook  in  which  George  fished  on  this 
afternoon  was  neither  a  wild  mountain  stream 
nor  a  tame  suburban  one.  On  other  days  he  had 
admired  it  fully  as  much,  and  he  was  familiar 
with  them  all  ;  but  now  he  stepped  listlessly 
into  the  water  flowing  over  the  yellow  sand,  and 
let  his  hook  be  carried  down  the  middle  of  the 
stream,  careless  of  the  dark,  sheltered  nooks 
under  the  banks  where  he  knew  the  larger  trout 
lay.  An  eager  little  fellow,  hardly  longer  than 
his  hand,  rushed  at  the  bait.  George  shook  him 
off  impatiently  ;  and,  regardless  how  much  he 
disturbed  the  water  with  his  splashing,  pushed 
aside  the  branches  of  a  tree  which  overhung 
the  stream,  and  clashed  quickly  forward.  In  so 
doing,  he  lost  his  balance,  and  barely  saved  him- 
self from  plunging  head  first  into  the  deepest 
part  of  the  stream.  In  regaining  his  footing, 
his  line  became  so  much  entangled  that  it  was 


ISO  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

several  minutes'  patient  work  before  he  could 
clear  it.  He  was  a  true  fisherman,  and  the  care 
he  was  forced  to  give  brought  him  back  to  what 
he  was  doing. 

A  few  steps  farther  on,  all  the  force  of  the 
stream,  leaving  a  little  water  to  trickle  over  the 
sand,  swept  close  to  the  bank  and  shot  swiftly 
under  the  trunk  of  a  maple  which  clung  des- 
perately with  its  roots  to  the  land,  hanging  its 
branches,  covered  with  the  fresh  green  leaves, 
and  draped  in  wavy  gray  moss,  out  over  the 
water.  George  knew  well  that  the  stream, 
disappearing  under  the  tree,  eddied  round  in  a 
sunless  pool  beneath  the  green  cushion  of  moss 
which  covered  the  nakedness  of  the  maple's 
roots  ;  so,  shortening  his  line,  he  let  his  bait 
glide  under  the  trunk,  still  half  reckless  and 
indifferent. 

But  there  is  no  electric  thrill  so  strong  as  the 
short,  sharp,  vicious  tug  which  the  great  trout 
gives  before  he  joins  battle  with  his  enemy. 
Out  he  rushes  into  the  clear  water  above,  dis- 
daining the  cover  of  the  familiar  snags  of  his 
home,  glorying  in  his  strength.  The  fight  is 
short,  for  the  bushes  and  fallen  twigs  and  roots 
of  trees  would  catch  the  line  if  it  lasted  long ; 
but  it  is  all  the  fiercer  while  it  does  last,  differ- 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  181 

ing  from  fly-fishing  as  a  gladiator's  battle  differs 
from  a  fencing-match.  Back  stepped  George  as 
the  trout  charged  him,  and  with  a  steady  pull, 
which  was  neither  slow  nor  jerky,  dragged  his 
antagonist,  dripping,  upon  a  convenient  tuft  of 
grass  on  the  bank  of  the  stream. 

His  listlessness  and  indifference  were  gone 
now,  and  down  the  stream  he  went,  searching 
every  nook  and  cranny  to  add  to  his  spoil.  The 
fish  had  come  from  the  salt  water  and  the  mud- 
flats, where,  by  some  change  which  no  one 
understands,  out  of  the  filth  where  they  had 
lived  they  came  forth  in  a  new  suit  of  silver 
armor,  with  rich  enamels  of  pale  blue  and  pink, 
and  on  their  way  to  the  shady  bays  and  bright 
shallows  of  Lake  Marby  they  turned  aside  from 
the  rapid  stream  into  some  quiet  place  where  the 
water  stood  still  and  they  could  rest.  Some- 
times George  would  draw  them  out  from  under 
a  bank  where  a  little  piece  of  grass  was  the 
groundwork  of  a  carpet,  of  which  the  white  vio- 
lets made  the  pattern,  as  their  blue  kinsfolk  had 
done  a  few  weeks  before ;  sometimes  the  stump 
of  a  felled  tree  gave  the  shelter,  —  a  tree  which 
seemed  to  belong  to  some  prehistoric  race  of 
gigantic  children  of  the  forest,  so  large  was  it 
compared  with  its  effete  descendants.  Late  in 


1 82  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

the  season  as  it  was,  the  day  possessed  that  un- 
discoverable  something  which  makes  the  fish 
hungry,  and  George's  basket  was  well  filled 
when  he  reached  the  blazed  tree  marking  the 
spot  where  an  imaginary  path  led  from  the 
brook  to  the  road. 

As  he  went  tramping  on  in  his  heavy  wading- 
boots  toward  the  shed  where  the  wagon  had 
been  left,  he  heard  the  quick  tread  of  horses 
behind  him,  and,  as  he  looked  back,  Ann  Brattle 
and  Clara  Ellison  rode  up,  Ann's  eyes  sparkling 
with  her  unexpected  triumph.  Clara  leaned 
from  her  saddle  and  greeted  George  warmly. 

"  Can  you  tell  us  where  we  are  ? "  said  Ann. 
"We  never  take  a  groom  in  this  innocent  place, 
and  I  was  rash  enough  to  promise  Clara  that  I 
would  guide  her  through  these  woods,  while  the 
rest  of  the  household  went  to  sail ;  but  it  is  quite 
as  hard  for  me  to  find  my  way  here  as  it  is  for 
you  to  find  yours  over  the  sand-flats." 

"  If  you  will  come  with  me  to  our  wagon,  I  will 
guide  you  back,"  said  George.  "  I  would  rather 
not  direct  you.  If  I  were  to  tell  you  to  take  the 
third  road  to  the  right,"  he  went  on,  turning  to 
Clara,  "you  would  be  torn  with  doubt  if  each 
place  where  the  bushes  were  thinner  than  usual 
should  count  for  a  road  ;  or,  if  you  waited  for 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  183 

something  which  would  be  called  a  road  else- 
where, you  never  would  find  the  third  one." 

He  walked  on  beside  them  to  the  shed,  Clara 
laughing  and  chatting  as  they  went.  Roger  had 
not  returned. 

"  I  hardly  can  drive  off  and  leave  him,"  said 
George.  "  Why  will  you  not  dismount  and  wait 
a  few  minutes  until  he  comes  back  ? " 

Ann  and  Clara  assented.  They  all  sat  down 
upon  the  steep  bank,  and,  through  the  branches 
of  the  trees  covering  it,  they  looked  down  upon 
the  stream  below. 

"Very  handsome  fish  should  come  out  of  such 
a  stream  as  that,"  said  Clara.  "  Are  n't  you  going 
to  show  them  to  us,  Mr.  Holyoke  ? " 

George  spread  out  his  treasures  on  the  grass. 
They  were  duly  admired,  and  the  conversation 
went  on,  chiefly  between  Clara  and  himself.  He 
was  a  fisherman,  and  for  this  time,  at  least,  a 
successful  one,  and  he  felt  at  home  in  his  flannel 
shirt  and  high  wading-boots,  so  that  Ann,  look- 
ing on,  thought  that  she  very  seldom  had  seen 
her  cousin  show  himself  to  better  advantage. 
They  did  not  talk  of  fishing,  indeed,  except  as  a 
prelude,  for  Clara  Ellison  was  known  for  the 
ease  with  which  she  carried  on  a  conversation. 
Saying  nothing  very  new  or  startling,  she  yet 


1 84  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

left  in  those  with  whom  she  talked  a  sense  of 
having  done  well  themselves  ;  and  if  they  did 
not  recall  any  particular  word  that  had  been  said, 
there  was  a  feeling  of  satisfaction,  not  of  having 
utterly  thrown  away  an  hour  in  mere  folly. 
Those  who  knew  her  best  said  that  this  came 
from  no  shallowness  of  mind,  but  from  the  abun- 
dance of  her  tact,  and  that  it  rested  upon  a  warm 
sympathy  and  a  clear  discernment  by  no  means 
common.  The  two  were  talking  still  when 
Roger  came  up  quietly  behind  them,  receiving, 
as  he  did  so,  a  knowing  glance  from  Ann,  who 
had  time  to  look  about  her.  By  this  time  it  was 
growing  late,  and  they  started  for  Stapleton. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and,  as  he  had 
done  the  week  before,  George  went  into  the 
choir  of  the  Stapleton  meeting-house,  telling  him- 
self that,  as  a  gentleman,  he  was  bound  by  his 
word  to  do  so.  From  his  lofty  position  he  looked 
over  the  congregation  and  saw  the  Standish 
family  arrive  with  their  guests,  —  Ann,  Clara, 
and  Harry  Larkyns.  Jane  Thomas  was  doing 
her  best  to  make  herself  agreeable  to  him  at  the 
time,  but  he  did  not  find  her  foibles  as  excusa- 
ble, as  he  had  represented  them  to  Mary  but  a 
week  before,  and  he  was  inclined  to  take  refuge 
in  turning  to  the  quiet  girl  whose  hymn-book  he 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  185 

then  had  shared.  It  was  a  relief  when  the  min- 
ister arose  and  the  whispering  ceased.  As  soon 
as  the  benediction  was  given,  George,  thinking 
that  he  had  done  his  duty,  took  care  to  slip 
quickly  down  the  narrow  stairs.  On  the  steps 
of  the  church  he  met  the  Standish  party  and 
spoke  to  Clara;  as  they  were  talking,  Harry 
Larkyns  came  up,  and,  almost  interrupting  him, 
began  to  chaff  George,  whom  he  knew  well,  on 
his  kindness  in  giving  his  musical  talent  to  the 
service  of  the  village  church.  Before  he  could 
answer,  Jane  Thomas  and  his  other  acquaintance 
passed  them  close  by,  and  George  raised  his 
hat. 

"  See  how  he  has  extended  the  circle  of  his 
acquaintance  among  the  fair  ones,  Miss  Elli- 
son," said  Harry,  laughing.  "They  say  he  is 
quite  a  leader  in  society  here." 

Though  the  shot  was  fired  utterly  at  random, 
and  without  any  evil  intent,  it  irritated  George, 
and  the  color  flushed  into  his  face. 

"You  forget,  Mr.  Larkyns,  that  you  told  me 
yesterday  men  could  not  get  on  without  women's 
society,  and  we  had  not  come  when  Mr.  Holyoke 
joined  the  choir.  Really,  I  should  think  it  would 
be  very  interesting  to  meet  the 'people  of  a 
place  like  this,"  she  went  on,  turning  to  George. 


1 86  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"One  of  those  girls  who  just  passed  us  had  a 
very  pleasant  face." 

"  She  is  very  pleasant,"  said  George,  taking  it 
for  granted  that  Clara  spoke  of  Jane  Thomas's 
companion,  but  unwilling  to  say  that  he  had 
met  her  only  in  the  choir,  for  fear  that  he  should 
be  thought  ashamed  of  knowing  the  people  of 
Stapleton. 

"  You  must  not  let  your  friends  here  keep 
you  from  coming  over  soon  to  see  us  at  Corn- 
lands,"  said  Clara,  cordially.  "  We  must  go  ;  I 
see  Mrs.  Standish  beckoning  us  to  come  to  the 
carriage." 

As  George  walked  home,  it  was  with  a  smile 
on  his  face  at  Clara's  words  and  tone.  On  the 
next  day  he  went  over  to  Cornlands,  leaving 
behind  him  Roger,  who  professed  misanthropy. 
Arrived  at  the  house,  he  found  the  party  gath- 
ered for  a  day's  sailing  and  fishing,  reinforced 
by  Miss  Caroline  Anstey,  the  young  lady  with 
whom  he  had  consoled  himself  at  the  garden 
party,  and  her  brother  Peter.  Peter  Anstey 
was  a  blameless  youth,  one  of  those  whose  pres- 
ence on  such  an  excursion  is  very  agreeable  to 
the  other  gentlemen  of  the  party,  because,  in  a 
spirit  of  true  self-sacrifice,  he  was  wont  to  do  all 
the  many  disagreeable  duties  which  belong  to 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  187 

the  occasion,  without  self-assertion  enough  to 
claim  credit  for  his  heroism. 

As  the  party  was  making  up  on  the  piazza, 
standing  about  with  shawls  and  waterproofs, 
talking  in  the  aimless  way  that  people  must, 
when  they  know  the  conversation  can  last  but  a 
moment  longer,  some  one  noticed  that  Hilde- 
garde  still  wore  her  white  breakfast  dress,  and 
had  made  no  preparation  for  the  excursion. 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  dress,  Hilda?  You  will 
be  late,  and  we  must  save  the  tide,"  said 
Caroline  Anstey. 

"  I  am  not  going,"  said  Hildegarde,  and  turned 
again  toward  Harry  Larkyns,  who  was  talking 
to  her. 

"  Why,  Hilda,  child,  why  are  n't  you  dressed  ?" 
said  Mrs.  Standish,  bustling  into  the  room. 

"  I  am  not  going,  mamma,"  was  the  quiet  an- 
swer a  second  time  ;  and  again  Hildegarde  tried 
tq  escape  any  further  question  by  turning  to 
Harry.  But  now  it  was  useless. 

"  Not  going  ?  Why  ?  Don't  you  feel  well  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Standish,  anxiously. 

Hildegarde  was  forced  to  turn  toward  her 
mother  and  the  rest  of  the  party,  who,  hav- 
ing nothing  to  say,  had  most  of  them  stopped 
to  listen.  There  was  the  slightest  shade  of 


1 88  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

annoyance  on  her  face,  but  no  irritation  in  her 
voice. 

"  Nelly  is  not  very  well,  and  is  distressed  at 
being  left  alone.  I  think  that  I  will  stay  with 
her." 

"  Nonsense  !  Nelly  is  only  a  little  out  of  sorts  ; 
and  besides,  if  she  wants  any  one,  I  will  stay  with 
her  myself,"  said  Mrs.  Standish,  who  was  an 
affectionate  mother,  and  very  far  from  a  selfish 
woman. 

"  You  can't,  mamma,"  said  Hildegarde,  smiling. 
"  You  are  needed  as  matron  for  the  party." 

"  I  will  act  as  matron,"  said  Ann.  "  I  think 
that  I  have  come  to  years  of  discretion  by  this 
time  ;  don't  you,  Mrs.  Standish  ? " 

But  Mrs.  Standish,  though  she  did  not  care 
to  go  herself,  and  was  very  desirous  that  Hilde- 
garde should,  yet  knew  that  her  daughter  spoke 
the  truth,  inasmuch  as  they  were  bound  for  a 
day's  excursion  ;  so  she  said  nothing.  ' 

"  Oh,  Nelly  will  do  very  well  with  me,"  said 
Hildegarde  ;  "  and,  indeed,  I  don't  want  to  hurry 
you,"  she  went  on,  smiling,  "  but  Caroline  is  right ; 
and  you  had  best  start  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"  Nelly  will  do  well  enough  with  you,  of  course, 
—  quite  as  well  as  with  me  ;  but  you  ought  not 
to  make  yourself  such  a  slave  to  her,''  said  Mrs. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  189 

Standish,  in  a  tone  meant  to  assert  for  herself  a 
superiority  in  argument,  without  the  least  hope 
of  gaining  her  object. 

"  She  spoils  Nelly  ;  it  is  not  right  to  give  up 
always,"  Mrs.  Standish  said  in  a  complaining 
tone  to  George  as  they  walked  toward  the  boat. 

"  I  should  not  think  it  would  do  the  child 
much  good,"  said  George,  perhaps  with  more 
emphasis  than  he  intended  on  the  one  word. 

The  day  was  pleasant,  and  the  water  smooth, 
so  that  the  party  escaped  most  of  the  discomfort 
which  usually  attends  even  a  successful  excursion 
on  the  salt  water.  George  found  himself  next 
to  Miss  Anstey,  who  began  at  once  to  rattle  on 
in  a  way  that,  in  time  past,  he  had  thought  amus- 
ing, but  which  now  he  contrasted  very  unfavor- 
ably with  Clara's  easy  conversation  of  the  day 
before,  or  with  Mary  Rogers's  originality.  Harry 
Larkyns  was  talking  away  within  a  few  feet  of 
them,  trying  to  amuse  Mrs.  Standish,  Clara, 
and  Ann,  apparently  with  very  good  success, 
judging  from  their  frequent  peals  of  laughter, 
in  which  Peter,  who  made  an  excellent  chorus, 
good-naturedly  joined. 

George  tried  to  talk  with  Caroline  Anstey  and 
hear  what  was  going  on  beyond  him  at  the  same 
time;  and  although  Miss  Anstey's  incessant  cas- 


190  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

cade  of  words  saved  him  from  disgrace  at  once, 
he  soon  was  conscious  that  his  face  was  broaden- 
ing into  a  smile,  rather  in  sympathy  with  Harry's 
jokes  than  with  Caroline's  sentiments.  Accord- 
ingly he  tried  to  manoeuvre  himself  and  his 
companion  from  a  tete-a-tete  into  the  general 
conversation,  but  it  was  useless  ;  Caroline  did 
not  take  the  hint,  and  showed  a  most  flattering 
preference  for  the  tete-a-tete.  At  last,  in  despair, 
George  resolutely  put  temptation  behind  him, 
and,  facing  around,  made  a  valiant  attempt  to 
understand  what  was  said  to  him.  Intellectually, 
it  should  not  have  been  difficult,  but  the  laughter 
and  a  few  disjointed  words  still  forced  them- 
selves into  his  ears,  and,  moreover,  it  was  be- 
coming clear  that  Miss  Anstey  had  found  him 
out  and  was  far  from  flattered.  He  was  strug- 
gling on,  when  Ann,  as  if  casually,  left  her  seat 
and  placed  herself  beside  them.  If  Caroline 
was  afraid  of  anything,  it  was  of  Ann  Brattle, 
and  her  spirits  seemed  to  fall  even  lower ;  but 
Ann  entered  into  the  conversation,  and  forced 
George  into  it  also,  though  the  sound  of  merri- 
ment from  Clara  and  Harry  Larkyns  still  made 
him  uncomfortable.  At  last,  barely  waiting  for 
Harry  to  finish  his  story,  Ann  broke  in  upon 
him :  "  Mr.  Larkyns,  won't  you  spare  some  of 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  191 

your  jokes  for  us  ?  We  are  very  sober  over 
here." 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  had  left  because  your 
intellectual  mind  could  not  lower  itself  to  mere 
amusement,"  said  Harry. 

"  On  the  contrary,  Miss  Anstey  and  I  have 
been  trying  to  make  each  other  smile,  without 
success  ;  intellectual  as  we  are,  we  need  your  wit 
to  enliven  us." 

"All  that  I  know  of  true  wit,"  said  Harry, 
rising  and  making  a  gesture  of  mock  reverence 
all  the  more  ludicrous  as  a  lurch  of  the  boat 
nearly  upset  him,  "  was  learned  by  me  as  a  pupil 
of  Miss  Brattle.  There,  I  suppose  I  must  call 
myself  a  very  callow  youth,  to  make  that  remark 
a  polite  one." 

"  No  ;  I  will  forgive  the  slur  on  my  age  for  the 
sake  of  the  compliment  to  my  wit,  if  you  will 
prove  yourself  an  apt  pupil  to  Miss  Anstey's 
satisfaction." 

The  diversion  was  sufficient ;  George,  with  a 
courage  he  once  lacked,  leaned  across  and  spoke 
to  Clara,  and  soon  had  engrossed  her  attention, 
easily  routing  poor  harmless  Peter  Anstey,  now 
his  sole  opponent.  The  conversation  was  a 
pleasant  one;  George  did  not  knowingly  com- 
pare Mary  unfavorably  with  Clara,  but  he  did 


192  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

compare  Clara  favorably  with  her  former  self, — 
not  that  he  had  blamed  her  before,  but,  without 
arrogance,  he  really  thought  that  he  was  doing 
himself  more  justice  now  than  then.  Once, 
indeed,  as  their  talk  was  running  on  quietly  in 
the  well-worn  channels  of  every-day  society 
small-talk,  it  certainly  did  seem  to  him  that 
Mary  had  the  more  originality ;  but  before  fix- 
ing in  his  own  mind  that  this  was  so,  with  an 
ease  which  he  was  quite  sure  he  had  not  always 
possessed,  he  turned  the  conversation  to  more 
serious  matters.  He  was  pleased  —  wonderfully 
pleased  —  to  find  that  Clara  more  than  responded, 
and  that,  to  use  a  simile  which  forced  itself  upon 
him  from  his  occupation  of  two  days  before, 
her  ideas  lay,  like  the  large  fish,  in  deep  places 
which  a  careless  passer-by  could  not  see,  waiting 
merely  for  an  invitation  to  show  themselves  in 
their  power.  Of  course,  when  they  reached  the 
fishing-ground  the  groups  on  the  boat  mingled  ; 
but  through  the  day  George  felt  that,  instead  of 
hopelessly  struggling  for  Clara's  attention  with 
Harry  Larkyns,  who,  he  confessed,  was  cleverer 
than  himself,  now,  at  the  worst,  he  fought  a 
drawn  battle. 

The  party  had  not  left  Stapleton  Bay,  when 
Roger,  who  was  reading,  stretched  on  the  grass 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  193 

under  the  shade  of  a  tree,  saw  their  sail ;  and, 
taking  up  his  field-glass,  which  lay  beside  him, 
assured  himself  that  the  whole  Standish  party 
was  on  board,  mistaking,  at  that  distance,  Caroline 
or  one  of  the  other  ladies  for  Hildegarde.  Soon 
after,  he  had  his  horse  harnessed,  and  drove  in 
the  direction  of  Cornlands,  thinking  thus  to  ac- 
complish a  polite  call  without  the  risk  of  finding 
any  one  at  home ;  for  at  the  present  moment 
Cornlands  society  did  not  seem  to  him  very 
congenial. 

He  drove  to  the  door,  fastened  his  horse,  and 
with  the  want  of  formality  for  which  Cornlands 
and  Stapleton  were  known,  strolled  round  the 
house  to  the  broad  piazza  to  look  at  the  sea 
sparkling  in  little  ripples  under  the  noonday 
sun.  As  he  turned  the  corner  he  heard  a  girl's 
voice  singing,  stopped  a  moment  to  listen,  and 
then  stepped  upon  the  piazza,  so  quietly  that  he 
was  not  heard.  Going  up  to  the  window,  which 
opened  down  to  the  floor,  he  paused.  Hilde- 
garde was  sitting  at  the  piano  with  her  back 
toward  him  ;  her  little  sister,  who  did  not  look 
very  ill,  was  half  sitting,  half  lying  down  on  the 
sofa.  For  a  moment  Roger  stood  still,  admiring 
the  erect  grace  with  which  she  sat  upon  the 
music-stool,  and  the  contrast  of  her  mass  of 
13 


194  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY, 

flaxen  hair  with  the  high  white  ruff  of  her  dress  ; 
then,  as  she  began  to  sing  the  translation  of  a 
German  ballad,  —  perhaps  it  was  wrong,  but  he 
did  not  go  in. 

"  Thou'rt  like  an  opening  flower, 

So  pure  and  bright  and  fair; 
As  I  look  in  thy  face  so  tender, 

Thou  fill'st  my  heart  with  care. 
Might  I  lay  my  hand  on  thy  forehead, 

And  beg  God,  in  His  might, 
To  keep  thee  with  His  strong  angels, 

Like  them  so  fair  and  bright." 

When  the  song  was  over,  Hildegarde  came  to 
the  sofa  and  knelt  down  beside  it. 

"  And  how  do  you  feel  now,  Nelly  ?  "  she 
asked  in  a  cheery  voice. 

"  Oh,  ever  so  much  better,"  said  the  child. 
"  Do  you  know,  Hilda,  I  was  thinking  that  you 
were  like  Cinderella,  and  mamma  and  the  rest 
of  them  like  the  proud  sisters  who  went  off  to 
the  ball  and  left  you  at  home." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  think  I  look  like  Cinderella," 
said  Hildegarde.  "  She  used  to  sit  in  the  fire- 
place with  a  dirty  old  gown  on  ;  now  I  thought 
when  I  looked  at  my  dress  this  morning  that 
it  was  very  pretty,  indeed  I  did.  Besides,  dear, 
mamma  could  not  stay  with  you  to-day ;  she  had 
to  go  with  the  others  in  the  boat." 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  195 

Before  Nelly  could  answer,  Roger  made  one  or 
two  loud  steps  outside  to  attract  attention,  and 
then  came  in  through  the  open  window.  Hilde- 
garde  rose,  and  came  forward  to  meet  him. 

"  I  am  so  sorry,  Mr.  Urquhart,  that  you  did 
not  come  a  little  earlier ;  they  all  have  gone  off 
sailing  for  the  day,  and  would  have  been  very 
glad  if  you  had  joined  them." 

"  Are  you  sorry  ? "  said  Roger.  "  I  do  not 
know  that  I  am." 

"Yes  ;  they  made  a  very  merry  party,  and 
are  enjoying  themselves  very  much,  I  have  no 
doubt,"  said  Hildegarde,  not  as  if  she  were  un- 
conscious of  the  implied  compliment,  but  pass- 
ing it  over. 

"And  may  I  not  enjoy  myself  here  —  unless 
your  sister  is  too  ill  ? "  said  Roger,  making  as 
though  he  would  sit  down. 

"  I  don't  think  there  is  anything  very  serious 
the  matter  with  her,"  said  Hildegarde,  smiling  a 
little.  "  Is  there,  Nelly  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  feel  better  now,"  said  the  child  reluc- 
tantly, rising  slowly  to  go  out  of  the  room. 

"  Oh,  don't  go,"  said  Roger,  who  did  not  like 
children,  and  sincerely  hoped  she  would  resist 
his  entreaties. 

"  No,  stay  here,  Nelly  ;"  and  Hildegarde  went 


196  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

again  toward  the  sofa,  and  sat  down  beside  it, 
facing  Roger  as  the  child  nestled  close  up  to 
her. 

"  Evidently,"  said  Roger  to  himself,  "  I  shall 
come  in  for  only  a  share  of  her  attention  ;  she 
does  not  know  enough  to  devote  herself  to  her 
guests,  but  is  thinking  still  of  her  dolls  and  sick 
sisters  in  the  nursery."  Nevertheless,  he  could 
not  but  acknowledge  that  the  two  made  a  pretty 
picture,  and  he  turned  to  Hildegarde  with  a  face 
imperturbable  as  ever :  "  Your  mother's  fete 
champfare  last  spring  was  your  first  party,  was 
it  not,  Miss  Standish  ?  You  go  into  society 
next  winter?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Hildegarde  ;  "  I  am  what  they  call 
'a  bud.'" 

The  vision  of  a  white  rosebud  just  opening 
came  into  Roger's  mind.  "And  do  you  look 
forward  to  your  first  season  with  pleasure  ? " 

"  Yes,  very  much." 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Roger,  "  that  you  should 
not  have  made  that  answer  ?  You  should  have 
said  that  you  did  not,  because  you  were  sure 
that  no  one  would  speak  to  you,  and  that  you 
would  not  have  a  good  time  ;  or,  if  you  wish  to 
be  thought  very  wise  and  good,  you  might  have 
made  some  remarks  on  the  wickedness  of  the 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  197 

world,  and  then  have  gone  on  to  say  how  impos- 
sible it  is  to  enjoy  one's  self  in  such  a  place." 

"  But  I  hope  that  some  one  will  speak  to  me 
occasionally,"  said  Hildegarde,  laughing  t  "and  if 
they  do  not,  why  should  I  borrow  care  by  think- 
ing of  anything  so  disagreeable,  —  for  of  course  it 
is  disagreeable  ?  Then,  though  I  want  to  be  wise 
and  good,  I  do  not  think  I  should  become  so  by 
calling  the  world  wicked,  in  that  way.  There 
are  so  many  good  people  in  the  world,"  she 
went  on,  looking  straight  at  Roger. 

"And  so  many  bad  ones,"  he  added  ;  and  then 
was  almost  sorry  he  had  spoken  so  flippantly. 

"  It  takes  a  great  many  failures  to  make  a 
success.  Sometimes  it  has  seemed  to  me  hard 
that  the  failures  get  no  credit  for  what  they  have 
helped  to  do  ;  besides,  I  can  hope  that  only  the 
good  people  will  come  up  and  talk  to  me." 

"You  can  hope  so  only  because — if  you  will 
excuse  me  for  saying  a  thing  which  really  is  not 
uncomplimentary  —  you  are  very  inexperienced  ; 
the  sheep  and  the  goats  herd  together  very 
amiably,  —  possibly  because  the  sheep  are  mostly 
goats  in  disguise,"  he  added,  almost  under  his 
breath. 

"  Then  I  shall  have  to  look  for  the  good  that 
is  in  the  goats.  It  is  not  the  goats  that  are  in 


198  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

sheep's  clothing,  I  think,  but  the  sheep  that 
have  put  on  the  goats'  skins,  and  perhaps  may 
take  them  off  some  time." 

"  Whichever  it  is,  we  all  are  sure  to  try  to 
appear  at  our  best  before  you,  Miss  Standish," 
said  Roger,  trying  to  make  a  gallant  speech  ;  but 
doing  it  with  more  feeling  than  those  speeches 
of  his  usually  covered. 

"Mr.  Urquhart,"  said  Hildegarde,  quite  gravely, 
"you  have  just  paid  me  the  highest  compliment 
that  you  can  make,  and  I  should  be  too  proud  if 
it  were  true ;  but  I  am  afraid  that  it  is  not." 

"  You  mean,"  said  Roger,  "  because  I  have 
not  shown  my  best  side  to  you  just  now." 

"  No ;  of  course  I  did  not  mean  that,"  said 
Hildegarde,  looking  displeased. 

"Nevertheless,  I  hope  it  is  true  that  I  have 
not,"  Roger  went  on,  telling  himself  that  once 
he  had  done  Hildegarde  great  injustice.  "But, 
in  all  seriousness,  society  is  not  in  a  satisfactory 
state  altogether  ;  and  I  suppose,"  he  added,  in  a 
tone  of  concession,  "  we  sometimes  make  it  out 
worse  than  it  really  is,  and  so  long  to  get  away 
from  it." 

"  Do  you  think,"  said  Hildegarde,  "  that  those 
people  who  used  to  go  away  from  the  rest  of 
men,  and  live  altogether  with  the  caves  and 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  199 

rocks,  really  enjoyed  them  more  than  those 
who  were  not  such  misanthropes  and  stayed 
behind  ? " 

"  Why,  yes,  I  suppose  so  ;  they  gave  all  their 
thoughts  to  Nature,  and  must  have  found  more 
beauty  in  it." 

"  I  do  not  think  so.  I  am  afraid  that  the  lone- 
liness gave  them  more  time  to  think  about  their 
own  hardships  and  others'  failings  ;  besides,  I 
think  that  all  beauty,  like  all  goodness,  is  the 
same."  She  hesitated  an  instant ;  then  she  rose 
and  went  toward  the  table,  saying  as  she  did  so : 
"There  is  a  poem  I  was  reading  this  morning 
which  will  explain  what  I  mean  better  than  I 
can  say  it :  — 

'  When  I  look  forth  on  the  broad  open  country, 

Bathed  in  rich  color,  as  it  turns  to  rest, 
I  drink  deep  down,  within  my  inmost  being, 
The  fairest  vision  that  my  soul  hath  blest. 

'  Fair  is  the  landscape,  fair  the  line  of  purple 

Drawn  by  the  distant  hills  upon  the  darkening  sky  ; 
But  the  grim  wrath  of  man  and  grimmer  wrath  of  Nature 
Have  wrested  beauty  to  deformity. 

'  Fair  is  the  smile  unfolding  a  child's  beauty, 

When,  pure  as  snow,  he  looks  up  from  his  bed  ; 
But  rain  and  wind,  and  wild  and  stormy  weather, 
And  a  long  checkered  life  shall   come  before  he  lies 
there  dead. 


200  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

'  Fairer  the  glory  on  an  old  man's  forehead, 

His  life's  work  ended,  as  he  faces  death  serene  ; 
But  the  deep  wrinkles  that  his  work  hath  wrought  there 
Tell  the  sad  story  of  his  Might  Have  Been. 

'Yet  was  my  vision  one  of  beauty  wholly, 

Unmarred  by  gloom,  foreboding,  or  despair  ; 
Peace  without  blot,  innocence  without  shadow, 
And  a  long  life  perfected,  —  all  were  gathered  there. 

'  Purged  in  the  glow  of  the  great  fiery  furnace, 

Which,  though  unseen,  still  gave  me  light  to  see, 
I  saw  the  soul  of  earth  and  child  and  father,  — 
Gold  without  dross  and  stainless  purity. 

'  And  so  I  pray,  on  that  unknown  to-morrow, 

Fairer  than  beauty  is,  more  radiant  than  the  sun, 
A  vision  like,  yet  more  exceeding  glorious, 
May  be  my  goal  in  the  life  just  begun.' 

If  I  have  preached,  Mr.  Urquhart,  it  is  because 
sometimes  I  cannot  help  preaching." 

"Unhappily,  I  have  heard  very  few  such  ser- 
mons," said  Roger. 

The  child  made  a  movement  on  the  sofa,  and 
Hildegarde  went  back  to  her  again. 

"  Miss  Standish,"  said  Roger,  after  a  moment's 
pause,  "  my  horse  is  at  the  door.  Can't  I  per- 
suade you  and  Nelly  (if  that  is  your  sister's 
name)  to  come  with  me  for  a  drive  ? " 

"  Oh,  let  's  go  ! "  almost  screamed  Nelly, 
springing  upright  on  the  sofa.  "  I  feel  very 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  2OI 

well,  —  really  I  do,"  she  said  appealingly  to 
Hildegarde. 

"  I  don't  think  it  will  do  you  any  harm  to 
take  a  short  drive,"  said  her  sister.  "  It  is  very 
kind  of  you,  Mr.  Urquhart,  and  we  both  are 
very  glad  to  go.  We  will  keep  you  waiting 
only  a  moment ; "  and  she  left  the  room,  Nelly 
prancing  along  at  her  side. 

Roger  sat  still,  looking  at  the  ground,  with 
an  expression  he  did  not  wear  very  often,  and 
it  was  a  minute  or  two  before  a  smile,  not 
altogether  cynical,  stole  over  his  face  at  the 
thought  of  his  having  come  to  Cornlands  to 
make  a  call  without  the  risk  of  seeing  any  one  ; 
while  now,  without  any  need  for  it,  he  was 
lengthening  his  call  into  a  drive  with  a  young 
lady  whom  he  once  had  called  brainless,  and 
an  ailing  and  fractious  child.  He  was  very 
prone  to  laugh  at  such  inconsistency  in  other 
people,  and  he  was  honest  enough  to  smile  at 
it  in  himself  ;  but  the  smile  was  in  no  wise 
bitter,  and  much  as  he  disliked  children,  he 
admitted  to  himself  that  he  should  have  been 
disappointed  if  Hildegarde  had  gone  without 
her  sister.  In  a  very  few  minutes  Hildegarde 
and  Nelly  returned,  the  latter  still  in  unre- 
strained delight. 


202  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  I  told  you,  Hilda,"  she  said,  "  that  you  were 
Cinderella;  only  the  Prince  has  come  himself 
with  the  chariot,  and  we  are  going  off  to  the 
ball." 

Hildegarde  blushed,  but  she  could  not  stop 
the  child. 

"  And  what  do  you  call  yourself  ? "  said  Roger, 
jocosely. 

Nelly  was  puzzled  for  a  moment ;  then  she 
said  with  satisfaction :  "  Oh,  I  am  the  fairy 
godmother.  I  hope  your  rats  have  not  been 
changed  into  horses  yet." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  my  one  rat  has  been,  but 
I  must  beg  you  not  to  change  him  back  again," 
he  said  with  mock  seriousness. 

They  drove  off,  the  child  prattling  away,  but 
Hildegarde  almost  silent  for  the  first  mile  or 
two.  Then,  as  Roger  talked  to  her,  not  in  his 
usual  bantering  way  of  talking  with  women, 
but  seriously,  though  not  on  so  serious  subjects 
as  they  had  touched  before,  she  responded,  often 
with  a  sense  of  humor  at  which  Roger  was 
surprised.  They  were  finishing  the  drive,  arid 
almost  had  reached  the  house,  when,  after  a 
moment's  pause  in  the  conversation,  in  an  ac- 
cess of  frankness  which  he  could  not  have  ex- 
plained to  himself,  Roger  turned  to  Hildegarde  : 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  203 

"  I  am  going  to  make  a  confession,  Miss  Stan- 
dish.  I  don't  know  why,  except  that  I  have 
an  inexplicable  desire  to  tell  the  whole  truth 
just  now.  I  came  to  Cornlands  this  morning 
under  false  pretences,  for  I  thought  every  one 
was  away  from  home.  I  trust  you  will  be- 
lieve me  when  I  say  that  I  am  glad  I  was 
mistaken,  and  that  when  I  call  the  next  time, 
you  will  think  I  really  hope  to  see  you." 

"  '  The  best  laid  schemes  o'  mice  and  men 
gang  aft  a-gley,'  "  said  Hildegarde,  with  a  smile, 
as  she  stepped  down  to  the  ground. 

"  Yes  ;  come  again,  Prince,  and  we  will  play 
Cinderella  over  again,"  shouted  Nelly,  in  spite 
of  Hildegarde's  efforts  to  restrain  her,  as  Roger 
drove  off. 

When  the  boating-party  came  back,  and  Mrs. 
Standish  heard  what  had  happened,  she  seemed 
well  pleased  at  her  daughter's  adventure,  and 
spoke  of  Roger  very  warmly  to  Ann  as  they 
went  upstairs  together.  As  to  Ann,  when  she 
heard  the  story  she  opened  her  eyes  and  said 
nothing. 


204  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 


XII. 

IT  was  nearly  a  week  afterwards,  on  one  of 
those  bright  days  which  come  rarely  in 
summer,  when  the  sun  has  forgotten  to  be  quite 
as  hot  as  usual,  that  the  whole  party  were  as- 
sembling at  Cornlands  for  a  long  ride  on  horse- 
back. The  horses  were  gathered  about  the 
porch,  and  Roger,  George,  and  Harry  Larkyns 
stood  together,  remarking,  with  the  usual  sense 
of  masculine  superiority,  upon  the  time  the 
ladies  spent  at  their  toilet.  At  last  the  door 
opened,  and  all  three  came  out  at  once,  for 
women  are  very  gregarious  animals,  and  always 
wait  for  each  other.  There  stood  Clara,  whose 
dainty,  graceful  figure  made  all  fashions  look  as 
if  they  were  invented  to  set  off  her  bright  open 
face  and  cheery  smile  ;  Hildegarde,  whose  bear- 
ing was  never  so  stately  as  when  she  rode  the 
great  black  horse  whose  courage  was  proud  to 
submit  to  her  gentle  sway  ;  and  Ann,  whose  cos- 
tumes, unlike  Clara's,  seemed  chosen  through 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  205 

a  desire  to  catch  up  with  the  fashion,  —  praise- 
worthy no  doubt,  but  unsuccessful,  because  their 
owner  never  gave  time  enough  to  the  pursuit. 
They  all  mounted  and  rode  off,  George  and 
Clara  in  advance,  Harry  and  Hildegarde  follow- 
ing, while  Ann  brought  up  the  rear  with  Roger, 
who  had  been  prevented  by  Harry's  better 
horsemanship  from  joining  Miss  Standish. 

"  There  are  two  things  I  want  to  say  to  you 
before  the  press  of  my  admirers  forces  you  to 
leave  me,"  Ann  began.  "  In  the  first  place, 
George  has  improved  amazingly  since  he  came 
here  ;  he  is  not  half  so  shy  as  he  used  to  be.  I 
should  think  that  he  had  been  only  practising 
on  the  village  charmer,  if  I  were  not  very  sure 
that  I  knew  him  better ;  certainly  she  has 
taught  him  how  to  treat  women,  and  I  believe 
that  we  have  interfered  in  time  and  routed  her, 
after  all.  Don't  you  agree  with  me,  my  most 
zealous  ally  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Roger.  "  Think  of  the 
scene  at  the  lake  that  afternoon  ;  if  it  had  not 
been  for  that,  you  might  have  prided  yourself 
that  she  ran  away  through  fear  of  you." 

"  I  don't  want  to  think  of  that  afternoon  ;  I 
would  much  rather  forget  it.  No  ;  I  cannot  con- 
scientiously lay  claim  to  having  frightened  her 


2O6  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

off.  But  look  at  them  ;  how  nicely  they  ride  to- 
gether ! "  she  went  on,  with  a  slightly  sarcastic 
intonation.  "  Clara  is  playing  her  part  very  well 
and  very  successfully." 

"  Miss  Brattle,"  broke  in  Roger,  his  whole 
manner  changing  from  listlessness  to  great  ani- 
mation, "  surely  you  have  not  persuaded  Miss 
Ellison  to  play  a  part." 

"And  why  not?"  said  Ann,  defiantly. 

"Because  you  have  injured  George  past  all 
help,  if  you  have." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Has  it  gone  so  far  as 
that  ? "  said  Ann,  with  another  touch  of  sarcasm. 

"Whether  it  has  gone  far  or  not,  George 
admires  and  respects  Miss  Ellison  as  the  per- 
fection of  what  ought  to  be  in  woman.  I  do 
not  know  whether  he  is  in  love  with  her :  I  do 
not  believe  that  he  is;  but,  if  he  should  fincf 
out  that  she  was  trying  to  lure  him  away  from 
another  woman,  he  would  lose  his  faith  in  your 
sex  as  completely  as  you  tell  me  that  I  have 
done.  It  would  be  a  great  loss  to  George,  for 
he  believed  in  you  once,  while  I  don't  know  that 
I  ever  did." 

"Don't  get  so  much  excited,  Mr.  Urquhart. 
To  ease  your  mind,  I  will  tell  you  that  Clara 
and  I  are  not  carrying  out  any  deep  scheme  for 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  2O/ 

deluding  an  ingenuous  youth.  I  have  George's 
welfare  at  heart  as  well  as  my  feelings  of  family 
pride.  And  that  brings  me  to  the  second  thing 
which  I  wanted  to  say  to  you.  It  seems  to 
me  that  you  lay  a  good  deal  more  stress  upon 
pleasing  illusions,  such  as  the  superior  nature 
of  woman  and  so  on,  than  you  used  to  do ;  you 
know  that  we  are  old  antagonists,  and  I  want  to 
understand  your  change  of  heart.  May  I  ask  if 
Miss  Standish's  arguments  have  proved  more 
effective  than  mine  ?  " 

Roger's  brow  darkened  ;  he  had  not  felt  very 
amiable  before,  but  his  unhappy  remarks  made 
to  George  about  Hildegarde  rose  up  to  plague 
him  at  every  step.  Ann  saw  his  annoyance  and 
was  malicious  enough  to  press  him  further,  per- 
haps in  revenge  for  attacks  he  had  made  upon 
her  in  years  gone  by. 

"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Urquhart,  your  foreign 
trip  has  improved  you  immensely.  I  was  afraid 
that  it  would  confirm  you  in  your  errors,  but  it 
has  softened  your  heart  instead  of  hardening  it ; 
you  will  come  to  have  faith  in  my  sex  at  last. 
Nay,  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  a  little  child 
may  lead  the  lion  once  untamable." 

"  Miss  Brattle,"  said  Roger,  with  a  smile  which 
had  left  in  it  scarcely  a  wish  to  seem  good- 


208  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

natured,  "they  say  that  women  never  hesitate 
to  take  an  unfair  advantage  of  an  opponent,  and 
that  they  never  forgive ;  I  think  that  common 
report  must  be  right." 

"  No,  you  are  mistaken ;  and  I  will  prove  it  to 
you."  So  saying,  she  struck  her  horse  with  the 
whip  and  they  both  rode  forward,  joining  Hilde- 
garde  and  Harry  Larkyns.  The  road  was  nar- 
row, and  in  a  few  moments  they  separated  again, 
Ann  and  Harry  now  riding  on  before. 

"Mr.  Larkyns,"  said  Ann,  as  they  rode  off, 
"really  it  is  a  great  pleasure  to  talk  with  you, 
you  take  such  cheerful  views  of  life.  I  am  feel- 
ing rather  blue  at  this  moment,  owing  to  Mr. 
Urquhart's  misanthropy ;  but  I  know  that  you 
will  have  cheered  me  up  very  soon." 

"  The  world  never  will  understand  me,"  said 
Harry.  "  I  am  not  flippant,  but  very  serious 
by  nature,  and  I  am  going  to  build  up  a  good 
reputation.  Is  the  natural  hue  of  those  charm- 
ing young  beings  over  whom  you  watch  with 
such  care  beginning  to  shine  through  that  coat 
with  which  a  beneficent  Providence  and  their 
untutored  instincts  have  provided  them,  —  in 
other  words,  have  the  dirty  little  children  of 
your  ragged  school  begun  to  wash  their  faces  ?  " 

In   the   mean    time    Roger    and    Hildegarde 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  209 

rode  on  in  silence  for  several  minutes,  Roger 
still  looking  gloomy  and  uneasy ;  at  last  he 
turned  to  Hildegarde,  and  said  almost  sharply, 
"Do  you  ever  feel  completely  put  out  with  any 
one,  Miss  Standish  ?  You  don't  look  as  if  you 
did." 

"  Do  you  mean  out  of  sympathy  with  them  ? " 
said  Hildegarde. 

"  I  was  afraid  that  you  never  had  gone  farther 
than"that.  No,  I  mean  angry  with  them,  —  ex- 
cept that  '  angry '  is  too  large  a  word  for  so  small 
a  feeling.  Just  now,  when  I  left  Cornlands,  I  was 
in  a  happier  frame  of  mind  than  usual ;  but  Miss 
Brattle  has  found  out  every  tender  spot  in  me, 
and  has  chafed  them  all.  I  believe  she  takes 
the  greatest  delight  in  making  me  wince." 

"  I  think  you  do  her  injustice.  Ann  has  deep 
and  strong  feelings,  but  they  are  so  well  covered 
over  that  an  attack  upon  them  does  not  trouble 
her,  and  I  believe  that  she  understands  very 
dimly  what  sensitiveness  means." 

"  Her  feelings  are  very  strong  and  deep,"  said 
Roger,  almost  interrupting,  —  "so  strong  that 
nothing  can  affect  them,  and  so  deep  down  that 
nothing  can  get  at  them." 

Hildegarde  could  not  help  smiling.  "  We  are 
told  that  we  ought  to  treat  others  as  we  wish  to 


210  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

be  treated  ourselves.  Do  you  know,  I  think  that 
we  often  use  that  as  a  permission  to  inflict  upon 
others  any  kind  of  torment  which  we  have 
taught  ourselves  to  bear  without  complaint." 

She  paused  for  a  moment.  Roger  looked  at- 
tentive, but  said  nothing.  "  Sometimes  I  think 
it  is  so  with  Ann.  She  always  has  been  very 
kind  to  me,  but  at  times,  when  she  is  talk- 
ing to  other  people,  I  am  put  out  with  her, 
as  you  say  ;  that  is,  I  tfo  not  want  to  listen  to 
her-  any  longer  :  I  should  be  glad  to  leave  the 
room." 

"  And  that  is  what  you  consider  is  meant  by 
being  very  much  put  out  with  some  one  ;  you 
want  to  go  away  and  leave  them.  I  suppose, 
though,"  he  said,  his  tone  changing,  "that  to  be 
left  by  you  is  their  severest  punishment." 

"  Mr.  Urquhart,"  said  Hildegarde,  with  an 
amused  face,  "do  you  think  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  always  to  be  paying  compliments  ? 
I  do  not." 

"Do  you  always  object  to  them  ?" 

"  No  ;  but  they  are  valuable  in  exact  propor- 
tion to  their  rarity." 

"  Which  is  a  delicate  intimation  that  mine  are 
very  worthless." 

"  If  you  force  me  to  answer  you,  I  must  say 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  211 

yes,"  said  Hildegarde.  Then,  after  a  pause,  "  I 
want  to  say  something  about  Ann.  I  have  spoken 
freely  about  her  faults,  because  I  do  not  think  it 
would  have  been  true  or  even  kind  to  her  to 
have  denied  them  ;  I  shall  not  try  to  praise  her 
for  her  many  good  qualities,  because  you  know 
that  I  am  her  friend,  and  because  if  I  did  I 
should  seem  to  be  excusing  myself  for  what 
I  have  just  said." 

"Then  you  do  not  think  that  it  is  our  duty 
always  to  make  excuses  for  our  friends  ? "  said 
Roger. 

"  It  never  can  be  right  to  speak  anything  but 
the  truth  about  them  ;  no,  nor  even  to  think  any- 
thing but  the  truth,"  said  Hildegarde,  almost 
sternly. 

They  had  been  riding  along  the  narrow, 
wooded  roads,  now  turning  to  the  left  and  now 
to  the  right,  as  the  fancy  of  George  and  Clara 
or  that  of  their  horses  suggested.  Hildegarde 
alone  knew  the  country  ;  but,  as  they  kept  on 
farther  and  farther  from  Cornlands,  even  her 
knowledge  began  to  fail ;  so  that  after  more  than 
two  hours'  ride,  when  it  occurred  to  George  and 
Clara  to  ask  her  for  directions,  even  she  con- 
fessed herself  lost.  Now,  under  her  guidance, 
they  tried  to  find  some  path  which  should  lead 


212  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

among  the  bushy  cart-tracks  where  the  branches 
swept  within  three  or  four  feet  of  the  ground, 
and  where  stout  saplings  springing  from  the 
stumps  of  felled  trees  almost  barred  their  pas- 
sage to  a  more  beaten  road. 

It  was  some  time  before  they  succeeded,  and 
when  they  did  so  they  were  tired  with  the  strug- 
gle. Riding  along  the  well-worn  road  they  had 
just  entered,  in  order  to  get  a  view  of  the  coun- 
try and  find  the  direction  in  which  Stapleton 
lay,  as  Hildegarde  and  Roger  reached  the  top 
of  a  small  hill,  she  stopped,  and  gave  a  cry 
of  surprise.  For  more  than  an  hour  their  view 
had  been  bounded  by  the  trees  on  each  side  of 
the  road;  now,  without  a  moment's  warning, 
before  them  stretched  miles  of  salt  marshes 
shut  in  from  the  sea  by  glistening  sand-hills.  In 
the  dark  blue  water  near  the  shore  a  large 
fleet  of  fishing-smacks  lay  close  together  at 
anchor,  their  sails  still  hoisted.  As  the  sun 
shone  full  upon  them,  resting  there  on  the  sea, 
the  sails  looked  like  the  marble  walls  of  a  great 
island  city. 

"  Venice ! "  cried  George,  as  the  others  rode  up. 

"  But  this  surely  is  not  the  road  to  Cornlands," 
said  more  practical  Ann. 

"  No,   it    is   not,"    said    Hildegarde,    coming 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  213 

back  reluctantly  to  every-day  life  from  the  voy- 
age she  then  was  making  to  the  city  by  the 
Adriatic  which  she  never  had  seen  before.  "  I 
am  sorry  to  have  led  you  so  far  out  of  the  way  ; 
we  have  a  long  ride  before  us." 

At  the  foot  of  the  line  of  low  hills  on  which 
they  stood,  between  them  and  the  marshes,  was 
open  country,  scattered  over  with  farmhouses 
which  seemed  of  a  much  better  class  than  the 
sandy,  barren  pastures  and  occasional  fields  of 
sparsely  growing  Indian  corn  would  justify.  One 
of  these  houses,  large,  old,  and  rambling,  stood 
near,  and  just  below  them. 

"  Can't  we  rest  ourselves  in  that  house  for  a 
few  minutes  ? "  said  Clara.  "  It  looks  old-fash- 
ioned and  hospitable.  I  must  confess  to  being 
rather  tired  and  very  hungry." 

"  Miss  Ellison,  your  ideas  are  always  the  prod- 
ucts of  true  genius,"  said  Harry  Larkyns.  "  Let 
us  start  now,  and  eat  up  all  the  cake  before  the 
others  get  there." 

So  saying,  they  rode  quickly  down  the  hill, 
the  rest  of  the  party  following,  and  kept  on 
until  they  reached  the  house.  It  looked  very 
easy  and  comfortable,  firmly  planted  on  the 
earth,  as  if  it  meant  to  hold  its  ground  long 
after  newer  buildings  had  fallen  to  pieces.  There 


214  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

was  a  little  terraced  yard  in  front,  between  the 
fence  and  the  porch,  where  the  grass  grew  long 
and  rank,  with  one  or  two  starveling  quince-trees 
and  rose-bushes,  and  a  few  poppies  and  holly- 
hocks. This  yard  was  shut  in  on  the  two  sides 
as  well  as  in  front  by  a  fence  of  elaborate  con- 
struction, which  contrasted  strangely  with  the 
rail  fences  that  enclosed  the  fields.  There  was 
a  gate  in  it  opposite  the  porch,  but  the  foot- 
path leading  to  the  house  was  untrodden  and 
overgrown  ;  the  house  and  barn  were  approached 
through  bars  which  had  been  taken  down,  by 
a  track  which  led  past  the  door  in  the  L  to 
the  open  barn  floor  beyond,  and  here  two  or 
three  shaggy  silver-poplars  and  willows  gave 
shade.  It  was  clear  that  the  front  of  the  house 
had  looked  gloomy  and  uninviting  till  within  a 
short  time,  for  the  shades  of  figured  green  paper 
were  pulled  down  in  the  room  on  one  side  of  the 
porch  ;  in  the  other,  it  seemed  that  the  windows 
had  just  been  flung  open,  as  had  the  front  door 
with  its  brass  knocker,  past  which  you  could 
see  the  white  painted  staircase  ascend  with  its 
light  hand-rail  and  delicate  pillars  twisted  and 
fluted. 

Clara   Ellison   and    Harry  rode   through  the 
bars.     He   threw   himself  from   his   horse  and 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  215 

knocked  vigorously  at  the  back  door.  It  was 
opened  by  a  girl  who  stood  full  in  the  open 
doorway  as  the  wind  wrenched  the  door  from 
her  hand  and  slammed  it  against  the  side  of 
the  house.  She  had  just  come  from  the  bread- 
board and  her  sleeves  were  rolled  up  to  the 
elbow  ;  her  common  figured  calico  dress  was 
set  off  by  two  or  three  red  roses  at  her  throat, 
and  there  was  another  in  her  dark  brown  hair. 
Altogether,  she  failed  so  entirely  to  meet  Harry 
Larkyns's  expectations,  that  for  once  in  his  life 
he  looked  shy,  and  simply  took  off  his  hat ;  it 
was  Clara  who  spoke. 

"  We  have  been  riding  for  some  hours,  and 
have  lost  our  way  ;  would  you  be  so  kind  as  to 
let  us  rest  here  for  a  few  minutes  ?  If  you  will, 
we  shall  be  very  much  obliged." 

"  Certainly ;  you  can  put  your  horses  in  the 
barn  there  ; "  and  the  girl  pointed  to  the  open 
barn  floor. 

Clara  dismounted,  and  Harry  was  leading 
away  the  horses,  when  other  hoof-beats  were 
heard  approaching.  Clara  smiled. 

"  I  ought  to  warn  you,"  she  said,  "  that  there 
are  more  of  us  coming  to  trespass  on  your 
hospitality." 

"All  of  you  are  welcome,"  was  the  answer. 


2 1 6  SIMPL Y  A  LO VE-STOR Y. 

Just  then  George  and  Ann  rode  into  the  yard, 
and  both  of  them  recognized  Mary  Rogers  at 
once.  George  dismounted,  came  forward  and 
shook  hands  with  her  slowly,  almost  solemnly, 
then  turned  and  presented  Clara,  —  all  this  being 
done  before  Ann,  who  was  still  on  horseback, 
could  say  anything. 

Mary  greeted  them  all  quietly,  as  well  as 
Hildegarde  and  Roger,  who  just  then  rode  up  ; 
and  she  led  them  through  the  kitchen  to  the 
large  room  with  open  windows  which  was  on 
one  side  of  the  front  door.  It  was  very  differ- 
ent from  anything  which  the  newer  civilization 
of  Stapleton  possessed,  —  low,  with  the  great 
beams  just  showing  through  the  plaster,  the 
floor  without  a  carpet  and  unpainted,  but  almost 
covered  by  rag  mats  with  broad  borders  bright 
as  a  kaleidoscope,  and  with  black  centres  orna- 
mented by  curious  conventional  representations 
of  huge  roses,  poppies,  and  dahlias.  There 
were  two  or  three  quaint  tables  about  the  room, 
of  mahogany,  with  delicate  legs  fluted  or  inlaid 
with  slender  fillets  and  medallions  of  bright 
wood  ;  on  these  was  a  wealth  of  tropical  shells, 
which  the  more  generous  nature  of  a  warmer 
climate  has  made  to  be  works  of  art  for  us. 
There  was  a  large  cabinet  with  its  bright  brass 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  21 7 

scutcheons  and  handles  ;  in  one  corner  stood  a 
great  clock,  its  intelligent  steel  face  embroidered 
with  brass ;  in  another,  an  old  spinet.  In  a 
high-backed  chair  facing  the  road,  and  looking 
out  over  the  marshes  to  the  slender  line  of  blue 
beyond  them,  sat  an  old  man  with  great  shaggy 
eyebrows  and  a  long  white  beard.  You  could 
know  he  had  followed  the  sea,  by  the  folds  of 
weather-beaten  skin  on  his  throat  and  neck  ;  and 
he  looked  as  if  he  were  watching  for  another 
ship  to  carry  him  on  a  longer  voyage.  Mary 
went  up  to  him,  and  bending  down  spoke  to 
him  :  "  Grandfather,  here  are  some  ladies  and 
gentlemen  who  have  been  riding  a  long  time  and 
have  come  in  to  rest.  This  is  Miss  Brattle,  this 
is  Miss  Ellison,  and  this  is  Miss  Standish."  Then 
she  presented  the  young  men. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  all,"  said  the  old  man, 
in  a  broken,  trembling  voice,  making  a  slight 
motion  as  if  to  rise  from  his  chair,  which  Mary 
checked.  "  Sit  down,  ladies  and  gentlemen." 

The  others  sat  down  about  the  room.  Hilde- 
garcle  drew  a  chair  near  to  that  of  the  old  man. 
As  they  were  seated,  Mary  turned  to  Clara. 

"  Would  n't  you  like  something  to  eat  ? "  she 
said.  "  You  must  be  hungry  as  well  as  tired, 
after  your  ride." 


2lS  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  I  should  like  a  piece  of  bread,"  Clara  ad- 
mitted ;  "  but  you  must  not  let  us  disturb  you. 
It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  ask  us  to  come  in." 

"  You  shall  have  something  if  you  will  wait  a 
few  minutes;"  and  Mary  disappeared  into  the 
kitchen. 

"  And  where  do  you  come  from  ? "  said  the  old 
sea-captain,  turning  to  Hildegarde. 

"  From  Stapleton,  near  where  your  grand- 
daughter, Miss  Rogers,  lives.  Does  she  pass 
much  of  her  time  with  you,  sir  ? "  Hildegarde 
asked. 

"  Yes,  she  stops  over  here  a  good  deal,"  said 
the  old  man,  sluggishly. 

"And  she  brightens  up  the  house  when  she 
comes  ? " 

"  She  opens  this  room  and  moves  me  in  here, 
where  we  used  to  live  in  my  father's  day,"  said 
the  old  man,  his  face  lighting  up  ;  "  and  she 
puts  a  red  rose  in  her  hair,  just  as  my  sister  did, 
who  died  when  I  was  off  on  a  voyage  to  the  East 
Indies.  I  brought  her  home  that  shell  there  ; " 
and  he  pointed  to  a  conch-shell,  paler  and  more 
delicate  than  the  rest,  which  lay  on  the  table. 

"And  does  Miss  Rogers  look  like  your  sister, 
sir?"  Hildegarde  asked. 

"  I  don't  know  as  she  does.      Once,  when  I 


SniPLY  A  LOVE-STORY  219 

was  a  young  man,  and  had  just  been  paid  off 
after  a  long  voyage,  I  bought  her  that  spinet 
there  up  to  the  city,  and  brought  it  down  here 
for  her.  She  used  to  sing  at  it,  as  Mary  does 
now,  and  I  tell  Mary  she  sings  like  her  aunt ; 
but  the  rest  of  them,  they  don't  seem  to  think 
so."  He  stopped. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  made  very  long  voyages, 
sir  ? "  said  Hildegarde,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
hoping  to  turn  his  mind  to  pleasanter  things. 

"  Child,  I  have  been  to  more  places  than  you 
ever  heard  of,"  said  the  old  man,  rousing  himself 
so  that  the  rest  of  the  party,  who  had  not  heard 
what  went  before,  were  startled  ;  then,  falling 
again  into  the  low  tone  in  which  he  had  spoken 
at  first :  "  Yes,  you  are  a  child,  though  you 
may  n't  think  it.  More  than  half  my  days,  when 
I  got  up  in  the  morning  there  was  nothing  to 
look  at  but  the  sea  ;  and  I  could  n't  be  happy  if 
I  had  n't  a  bit  of  the  sea  to  look  at  now.  You 
are  a  child  yet,  and  you  can't  tell  how  the  sea 
calls  you  when  you  Ve  got  too  old,  and  know 
that  you  never  can  walk  a  ship's  deck  again. 
Sometimes  it  feels  as  though  the  land  could  n't 
hold  you,"  he  went  on,  his  voice  rising  again. 

"  You  have  a  great  many  strange  places  to  think 
about,  now  that  you  sit  here,"  said  Hildegarde. 


220  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  Eh  —  yes,"  said  the  old  sea-captain,  whose 
head  was  again  leaned  upon  his  breast  as  when 
they  had  first  come  into  the  room.  "I  used  to 
think  and  talk  about  them,  when  I  first  tried 
to  settle  down  here  after  I  came  home  from  my 
last  voyage ;  but  now  it  's  mostly  of  the  house 
in  my  father's  time  that  I  'm  a  thinking." 

Ann  had  risen  and  wandered  across  the  room 
to  where  the  old  spinet  stood.  There  were  a 
few  brown-leaved  music-books  in  a  home-made 
music-stand  beneath  it ;  she  took  up  one  of 
these,  and  was  looking  it  over,  not  noticing  that 
Mary  had  come  into  the  room  and  was  laying 
a  cloth  on  the  table,  having  declined  with  thanks 
Clara's  offer  to  help  her.  Ann  turned  back  the 
leaves  listlessly  until  she  came  to  the  titlepage, 
when  she  wheeled  round  suddenly. 

"  Ann  Winslow  !  "  she  said.  "  How  curious  ! 
That  is  my  name;"  then,  noticing  Mary,  "Oh, 
I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Rogers  ;  I  was  sur- 
prised at  the  coincidence." 

"  She  was  my  grandfather's  sister,"  said  Mary. 
"  Her  father  was  the  brother  of  your  great- 
grandmother,  which  accounts  for  the  likeness  in 
the  names." 

To  say  that  Ann  was  surprised,  would  be  to 
mock  the  intensity  of  her  feelings.  She  often 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  221 

had  declared  that  she  despised  genealogical 
studies,  and  she  was  completely  unprepared  for 
her  discovery.  If  Mary  had  proclaimed  their 
relationship  at  their  first  meeting,  or  even  later, 
it  would  not  have  been  so  bad ;  but  Ann  knew 
that  she  had  brought  the  discovery  on  herself. 
However,  she  had  not  lived  eight-and-twenty 
years  in  the  world  for  nothing,  and  the  sur- 
prise which  she  showed  was  much  less  than 
Mary  had  expected,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  had 
hoped  for. 

"  Shall  we  embrace  as  long-lost  cousins  ?"  she 
said,  laying  down  the  book  and  going  toward 
the  table.  "  Perhaps  we  had  belter  wait  until 
I  help  you  put  down  those  plates,"  she  went  on, 
holding  out  her  hands  for  them. 

"  Oh,  don't  trouble  yourself,  Miss  Brattle," 
said  Mary,  not  yielding  to  Ann's  motion. 

Ann  turned  and  gave  one  glance  at  Roger, 
then  sat  down.  She  was  going  to  ask  some 
questions  about  the  relationship,  and  had  opened 
her  mouth  to  do  so,  when  she  stopped  for  George's 
sake,  thinking  it  best  to  pass  over  the  whole 
affair  as  lightly  as  possible. 

The  cloth  was  soon  laid  ;  thin  slices  of  bread 
were  set  out  in  quaint  plates  of  India  china, 
which  had  been  Mary's  delight  when  a  child  ; 


222  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

there  were  pats  of  butter  stamped  with  the  like- 
ness of  some  impossible  animal,  and  slender 
silver  teaspoons,  dating  from  a  time  when  deli- 
cacy in  workmanship  and  beauty  in  shape  were 
valued  more  than  the  weight  of  silver. 

Mary  gave  a  glance  at  the  table,  and  then  went 
toward  her  grandfather.  Again  she  stooped  down 
to  him  and  gave  him  her  arm  to  help  him  arise. 
He  made  the  effort,  but  was  falling  back,  when 
Hildegarde  took  him  by  the  other  arm,  and  lean- 
ing on  them  both,  he  walked  toward  the  table. 

"  Will  you  come  and  sit  down  ? "  said  Mary, 
turning  to  the  others,  as  she,  with  her  grand- 
father and  Hildegarde,  came  slowly  across  the 
floor.  They  rose,  and  had  reached  their  seats, 
when  the  old  man,  who  had  not  seen  so  many 
people  about  his  table  for  many  a  year,  and 
whose  mind  ran  back  to  his  father's  old  custom, 
leant  his  hands  on  the  back  of  his  chair  and 
asked  a  blessing  in  a  voice  slow,  but  firmer  than 
was  his  wont. 

Quietly  Mary  disposed  her  guests  at  the 
table,  giving  George  the  seat  at  her  right  hand, 
and  then,  in  a  way  which  amazed  Ann  more 
than  anything  which  had  happened  yet,  encour- 
aged them  to  talk  ;  speaking  of  the  road  they 
had  missed  in  coming  through  the  woods,  and 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  22$ 

which  they  must  follow  on  their  return,  and 
telling  the  story  of  the  old  house  in  which  they 
were  sitting.  She  laughed  at  and  answered 
some  of  the  rattling  talk  which  Harry  had 
begun  again  to  pour  forth  ;  showed  to  Clara, 
with  family  pride,  a  curious  sampler  in  which 
some  ancestress  had  tried,  with  various  success, 
to  combine  dexterity,  beauty,  and  morality  ;  and 
asked  Roger  and  George  what  luck  had  attended 
their  fishing.  Ann  stole  an  occasional  glance 
at  George  to  see  how  he  was  taking  all  this. 
He  had  shown  pleasure,  perhaps,  but  not  of  a 
very  lively  kind,  when  Mary  had  given  him  the 
place  of  honor  ;  now  he  sat  almost  dazed,  as  it 
seemed,  glancing  once  or  twice  at  Mary,  looking 
sometimes  at  Clara,  and  scarcely  speaking. 

Lunch  over,  the  gentlemen  brought  out  the 
horses,  and  the  party  started  for  Stapleton, 
waving  their  farewell  to  Mary,  who  stood  in  the 
doorway  with  her  handkerchief  thrown  over  her 
head,  as  Roger  remembered  it  on  that  Sunday 
when  she  called  him  in  to  dinner.  That  time 
was  to  him  a  long  way  off,  and  its  interests  did 
not  seem  so  important  now. 

"  Mr.  Urquhart,"  said  Hildegarde,  as  they 
started  on  their  homeward  road,  "  you  were 
saying  the  other  day  that  there  are  a  great 


224  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

many  bad  people  in  the  world  ;  did  you  ever 
think  how  many  good  people  we  must  miss  here 
because  they  lie  just  outside  our  reach  ?  That 
is  what  I  have  been  thinking  of  just  now." 

"  Your  cousin  is  a  most  charming  young 
lady,"  said  Harry  to  Ann.  "  Seriously,  I  think 
she  would  do  credit  to  any  family." 

"Do  you?"  said  Ann,  sarcastically.  "Yes; 
I  remember  that  you  paid  her  a  great  deal  of 
attention,  now  that  I  think  of  it." 

"  Shall  not  thy  servant  pay  attention,  as  you 
call  it,  to  any  charming  young  woman  the  gods 
send  in  his  way,  particularly  if  she  is  related  to 
one  still  more  charming  ?  "  said  Harry,  wondering 
that  the  clever  Miss  Brattle  should  be  angry 
with  him  for  talking  to  a  country  girl. 

"  Mr.  Holyoke,  really  I  envy  you  the  acquaint- 
ance of  such  a  girl  as  that,"  said  Clara,  heartily. 
"  There  is  something  so  fresh  and  original  about 
her.  If  every  house  here  is  like  that  one,  this 
country  must  be  an  Arcadia,  with  the  stupidity 
left  out." 

Of  course  everything  was  all  over  between 
George  and  Mary,  if  there  had  been  anything  to 
be  over  with  ;  but  it  is  very  pleasant  to  hear 
the  praise  of  your  friends,  and  you  think  well 
of  the  taste  of  those  who  give  it. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  225 


XIII. 

IF  Ann  had  refrained  from  asking  Mary  about 
their  relationship,  it  was  not  because  she 
cared  nothing  about  it ;  and,  within  a  day  or  two, 
as  soon  as  she  could  get  him  to  herself,  she 
questioned  Mr.  Standish,  who,  like  most  gentle- 
men of  his  age  belonging  to  a  good  family,  was  a 
walking  hand-book  of  genealogical  lore. 

"  Mr.  Standish,"  she  said  carelessly,  "  did  one 
of  my  ancestors  marry  a  Winslow  ?  " 

"  Certainly  ;  your  great-grandfather  Belknap 
married  Ann  Winslow.  She  was  a  most  charm- 
ing woman,  and  well  known  for  her  beauty.  Un- 
fortunately, she  died  young;  but  there  is  a  fine 
miniature  of  her  which  must  belong  to  some 
branch  of  your  family.  Have  you  never  seen  it  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ann.  "  Was  it  a  runaway  match, 
or  anything  of  the  sort  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly  not.  They  were  married  be- 
fore all  their  relatives  in  the  old  Winslow  man- 
sion," said  Mr.  Standish,  who,  in  consequence  of 
15 


226  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

his  knowledge  of  family  history,  seemed  to  be 
coeval  with  his  own  great-grandfather.  "  May  I 
ask  what  made  you  think  so  ? "  he  went  on  in 
his  courtly  manner. 

"  Was  her  family  as  good  as  his  ? "  said  Ann, 
not  answering  his  question. 

"  Very  nearly.  She  was  a  great  belle,  and 
your  grandfather — I  beg  pardon,  your  great- 
grandfather —  used  to  go  courting  there  with  a 
number  of  other  young  men.  She  was  one  of 
a  large  family,  and  all  the  rest  were  boys :  per- 
haps it  was  that  which  gave  her  the  charming  man- 
ners for  which  she  was  famous.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Belknap  lived  in  the  city  for  a  few  years,  and  then 
she  died.  Mr.  Belknap  married  again,  —  I  think 
there  were  none  but  temporary  widowers  in  those 
days,  —  but  you  are  her  descendant.  Now  I 
think  of  it,  are  you  not  named  for  her?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Ann  ;  "  but,  strangely  enough,  I 
never  heard  of  her  until  —  "  she  paused. 

"Until  I  spoke  just  now,"  said  Mr.  Standish, 
finishing  the  sentence  for  her.  "  You  ought  to 
know  about  her  and  see  her  miniature.  One 
charming  young  lady  should  know  about  her 
namesake,  who  was  charming  too,  and  who,  for 
all  that  she  was  born  so  long  ago,  we  must  think 
of  as  always  young." 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  227 

Ann  smiled,  and  the  subject  dropped.  She 
would  have  been  glad  to  see  her  new  cousin 
again ;  but,  although  George's  increasing  atten- 
tions to  Clara  Ellison  encouraged  her,  she 
thought  it  best  to  keep  Mary  in  the  back- 
ground as  much  as  possible. 

It  was  sunset  on  the  same  day ;  there  had 
been  a  shower,  and  the  southwest  wind  spring- 
ing up  had  driven  the  torn  clouds  over  into  the 
east,  where  they  lay  piled  up,  and  ruddy  with  the 
glow  which  reached  them  even  there.  It  was 
after  supper,  and  Mary  had  gone  upon  the  roof 
of  the  house  at  Wilson's  Neck,  to  a  little  railed 
walk  which  had  been  built  there  by  one  of  its 
nautical  owners.  So  flat  was  the  land  that  the 
marshes,  low  as  was  the  house,  were  too  far  be- 
neath to  come  into  the  view,  and  Mary  looked 
out  upon  the  sea  alone,  and  felt,  as  thousands 
have  felt  before,  that  though  it  often  divides  us 
from  our  friends  in  the  body,  yet  the  sea  can 
unite  us  to  them  in  the  spirit,  by  stretching  itself 
out  unbroken  from  them  to  us,  and  offering  to  us 
the  hem  of  the  same  mantle  which  is  spread  over 
all  Nature  for  them. 

Her  spirits  did  not  rise  when  she  looked  on 
the  ocean.  They  had  not  sunk  when  she  had 
looked  on  it  three  years  before,  for  then  her 


228  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY, 

mind  had  gone  forward  over  those  three  years 
as  quickly  as  it  could  go  back  over  them  now, 
and  she  had  wished  Herman  Crocker  to  make 
his  voyage  ;  but  she  was  happy  now,  —  now  they 
could  be  married.  He  had  gone  through  his  trial 
with  honor,  she  knew,  and  she  believed  that  she 
had  faithfully  gone  through  hers.  She  walked 
slowly  up  and  down,  refreshed  by  the  breeze 
which  had  been  cooled  by  the  passing  shower. 
Soon  she  heard  the  rattle  of  a  wagon,  and  look- 
ing over,  saw  her  father  drive  up  to  the  house ; 
she  came  down  quickly  to  meet  him.  He  was 
climbing  out  of  the  wagon  with  much  more  diffi- 
culty than  he  would  have  found  in  getting  over 
the  side  of  a  vessel,  when  Mary  met  him  at  the 
door. 

"Well,  Mary,"  he  said,  as  a  smile  of  relief 
came  over  his  face  at  reaching  the  ground  in 
safety,  "  how  is  father  to-day  ?  " 

"  He  is  very  well,"  said  Mary  ;  "  he  has  been 
better  these  past  few  days." 

"Well,  your  mother  wanted  me  to  bring  you 
a  few  things,  being  as  I  was  over  this  way.  I  '11 
go  in  and  see  the  old  gentleman  a  minute,  so  as 
I  can  tell  your  mother  that  I  have  looked  at  him 
myself.  Oh,  yes  ;  and  here 's  a  letter  that 's  come 
for  you  while  you  've  been  gone,  —  a  good  big  one, 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  229 

too  ;"  and  he  handed  Mary  a  fat  letter  addressed 
in  a  handwriting  she  knew  better  than  her  own. 

She  took  it  and  put  it  in  her  pocket ;  for  Cap- 
tain Rogers's  visit  would  be  short,  and  she  would 
not  lose  the  luxury  of  reading  it  through  by 
breaking  it  open  when  there  was  no  time  to 
finish  it.  Her  father  went  into  the  room  where 
old  Captain  Winslow  was  sitting,  left  him  after 
a  few  words,  and  started  on  his  homeward 
drive.  She  was  going  up  to  her  own  room  im- 
mediately afterwards,  when  her  grandfather  called 
her,  and  asked  her  to  read  to  him. 

It  was  another  delay ;  but  she  began  the 
newspaper,  and  probably  suffered  less  than 
most  girls  would  have  done,  for  she  felt  that 
Herman  was  coming  soon  ;  he  had  been  so 
true  to  her  that  she  knew  what  must  be  in  his 
letter,  and  the  reading  it  would  be  as  pleasant 
at  one  hour  as  at  another.  At  last  Captain  Wins- 
low  dozed,  and  going  upstairs  to  her  chamber, 
she  was  free  to  break  open  the  envelope.  The 
letter,  as  she  felt  it,  seemed  unusually  heavy.  "  It 
is  his  last,"  she  thought,  "  and  he  means  it  to 
be  the  best."  As  she  took  the  letter  from  the 
opened  envelope,  a  sheet  fell  out,  closely  written, 
but  not  in  Herman's  handwriting.  She  was 
startled  for  a  moment ;  but  the  other  shqet  and 


230  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

the  envelope  were  written  by  him  ;  so,  not  wait- 
ing to  pick  up  the  fallen  paper,  she  began  to 
read  his  letter.  It  was  dated  at  Savannah. 

DEAR  MARY,  —  When  I  left  you  three  years  ago  to 
make  this  voyage,  I  never  thought  that  in  these  three 
years  you  could  think  of  me  in  any  way  different  from 
what  you  thought  when  I  sailed.  I  should  not  have 
trusted  any  one  else  so ;  but  I  did  trust  you,  —  not  be- 
cause I  loved  you.  but  somehow  it  seemed  to  me  that 
you  did  not  change  as  most  people  do.  You  know 
what  has  happened.  Prue's  letter  will  tell  how  well 
I  know  it. 

[Mary  glanced  at  the  sheet  which  lay  on  the 
floor,  and  then  read  on.] 

When  a  man  leaves  a  young  girl  behind  him,  what 
can  he  expect  ?  And,  after  all,  what  have  I  a  right  to 
expect?  I  don't  know  that  I  can  blame  you.  When 
I  went  away,  you  loved  me.  I  believed  it  then.  I  don't 
know  what  I  could  believe  if  I  did  not  believe  it  to-day ; 
and  now,  because  I  think  you  must  care  for  me  just  a 
little  even  now,  I  write  this  long  letter ;  you  will  not  be 
troubled  with  another.  If  I  have  no  right  to  speak  out, 
I  ask  your  pardon.  O  Mary,  I  loved  you  then  be- 
cause you  were  not  like  the  other  girls  that  I  saw,  —  I 
cannot  tell  exactly  how,  —  and  I  was  so  happy  when  you 
took  me,  for  I  knew  that  I  had  a  pearl  of  great  price  : 
I  was  foolish,  because  I  did  not  think  how  unworthy  I 
was  to  have  it  for  my  own.  I  did  not  think  there 
might  be  others  who  could  give  more  for  it  than  I  had  to 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  231 

give.  I  do  not  mean  money,  Mary,  —  of  course  he  has 
that ;  but  I  do  not  believe  that  you  would  sell  yourself 
for  money.  He  has  everything  that  you  want,  every- 
thing I  have  not  got.  I  cannot  tell  but  what  he  has 
besides  the  only  thing  that  I  could  give  you,  —  the  love 
of  an  honest  man ;  I  pray  that  he  has.  I  am  glad  I 
heard  all  this  before  I  got  home ;  it  will  save  you  the 
trouble  of  telling  me,  and  I  have  written  to  save  you  the 
need  —  no,  that  is  not  the  whole  of  it.  I  have  written 
because  I  must  speak  out  before  I  say  good-by.  You 
can  show  this  to  him ;  I  have  tried  to  put  nothing  into 
it  but  what  he  might  see.  We  shall  stay  here  some 
time  longer  before  we  come  North.  The  voyage  has 
been  a  good  one,  if  you  care  to  hear  that.  Perhaps 
you  do,  but  I  do  not. 

Your  well-wisher, 

HERMAN  CROCKER. 

Mary  sat  looking  straight  before  her.  She 
had  read  the  first  few  lines  of  the  letter  with 
feverish  haste,  then  she  had  gone  on  slower  and 
slower  to  the  end.  Not  a  muscle  of  her  face 
moved  as  she  sat  there,  until,  as  with  a  sudden 
movement  she  stooped  down  and  snatched  the 
fallen  sheet  from  the  floor,  her  whole  face 
changed,  and  with  eager  flashing  eyes  she  de- 
voured it. 

DEAR  BROTHER,  —  I  write  this  to  you  in  Savannah, 
hoping  that  you  may  get  it  there,  and  so  hear  from  me 


232  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

again  before  you  get  home.  We  are  all  pretty  smart ; 
father  and  mother  have  got  through  the  winter  pretty 
well,  and  there  is  nobody  dead  in  the  village  that  you 
care  about.  George  Hawkins  and  his  wife  have  quar- 
relled ;  she  says  that  he  did  not  treat  her  well,  used  to 
slap  her  face  and  so  on,  and  that  he  is  wanted  up  to 
the  city  for  something  he  did  wrong  about  his  vessel. 
Folks  say,  though,  that  she  is  tired  of  him,  and  wants  to 
get  a  divorce  so  that  she  can  marry  Rowland  Marston. 
It  looks  to  me  that  way,  but  I  don't  know.  John  Wil- 
liam Hatherly  is  dreadful  sweet  on  Jane  Thomas ;  he 
got  Captain  Bisha's  new  buggy  and  took  her  out  to 
drive  the  other  day;  nearly  upset  her,  so  folks  say. 
Captain  Rogers's  pride  has  got  taken  down  a  bit,  I 
guess,  for  Mrs.  Rogers  has  taken  two  young  men  from 
the  city  as  boarders,  and  one  of  them  seems  dreadfully 
gone  on  Mary.  I  saw  him  take  her  out  sailing  one 
evening,  and  I  heard  pretty  straight  that  he  was  wan- 
dering through  the  woods  with  her  at  a  picnic  they 
had  over  to  Lake  Marby  on  the  Fourth  of  July.  Folks 
say  that  she  has  made  a  dead  set  at  him  ;  I  know  she 
asked  him  to  come  and  sing  with  her  in  the  choir. 
He  does  n't  seem  exactly  like  most  of  the  young  men 
from  the  city,  I  will  say  ;  he  is  very  quiet  and  respectful- 
like,  and  Jane  Thomas  says  he  means  business.  I  know 
the  city  people  talk  about  it.  There  's  one  thing  certain ; 
and  that  is,  what  Mary  means.  I  thought  that  she  made  a 
set  at  you  once,  and  was  considerably  cut  up  when  you 
left  to  go  whaling ;  but  she  is  dreadfully  stuck  up  now, 
and  won't  look  at  any  one  but  this  city  chap.  I  am  real 
glad  to  hear  that  you  have  made  such  a  good  voyage  ; 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  233 

you  had  a  first-rate  lay,  and  I  '11  be  proud  to  have  my 
brother  home  again,  with  a  lot  of  owners  looking  out 
for  him  to  command  a  vessel  next  time. 
Your  affectionate  sister, 

PRUDENCE  CROCKER. 

The  color  which  had  left  Mary's  face  as  she 
read  Herman's  letter  came  back  to  it  again  as 
she  read  his  sister's.  When  she  had  finished  it, 
she  rose  and  walked  steadily  across  the  room 
to  the  bureau,  on  which  a  faded  tin-type  of 
Prudence  lay.  She  took  it  up  and  looked  at 
it  sternly  and  fixedly,  her  face  full  of  anger,  but 
wholly  free  from  passion.  In  a  moment  she 
dropped  it  upon  the  floor  and  ground  it  to  pieces 
under  her  heel.  Then  she  stood  still,  looking 
down.  As  soon  as  she  had  read  Herman's 
letter,  her  impulse  had  been  to  answer  it,  to 
clear  away  all  doubts  from  his  mind,  to  bring 
him  back  to  the  full  measure  of  the  love  he 
had  felt  toward  her ;  but  Prudence's  letter  had 
wrought  a  change.  How  could  he,  on  the  false 
witness  of  a  foul-mouthed  gossip-monger,  how 
had  he  dared  to  believe  anything  against  her 
who  had  been  so  true  to  him  ?  If  his  sister 
never  had  written  the  letter,  Herman  would  not 
have  insulted  her.  But  if  he  had  believed  in 
her  as  he  ought,  what  effect  could  any  letter 


234  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

have  had  on  him  ?  Mary  was  not  given  to  pity- 
ing herself,  but  as  she  thought  of  the  scene  at 
Lake  Marby,  how  she  had  been  true  as  steel  to 
Herman  while  trying  to  do  the  duty  which  lay 
close  at  her  hand  to  do  for  George,  the  sense  of 
injustice  was  too  great. 

"  Herman  is  unworthy,"  she  thought,  bitterly 
and  sternly,  as  she  walked  across  the  room.  On 
a  little  table  at  the  head  of  her  bed  lay  his 
likeness,  kept  there  that  she  might  see  it  before 
she  shut  her  eyes  at  night  and  as  soon  as  she 
opened  them  in  the  morning.  "  Herman  is  un- 
worthy," she  repeated  to  herself  as  she  went 
toward  it ;  and  not  until  she  saw  his  face  there 
did  the  full  meaning  of  her  words  sweep  over 
her  as  a  flood,  and  she  flung  herself  upon  the 
bed,  burying  her  face  in  the  pillow.  Herman 
unworthy !  It  meant  to  her  at  that  moment  that 
her  whole  past  life,  her  hopes  for  the  future,  her 
faith  in  goodness  itself,  were  gone.  No !  Her- 
man was  not  unworthy ;  it  was  she  herself  who 
had  done  wrong.  She  should  not  have  spoken 
to  George,  she  should  have  repulsed  him ;  better 
that  she  had  been  killed  by  the  train  on  that 
wretched  night,  than  have  escaped  by  his  help. 
And  Prudence?  Prudence  was  Herman's  sister, 
who  had  but  exaggerated  the  truth.  She  would 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  235 

write  to  Herman,  and  beg  for  his  pardon  ;  per- 
haps get  it  so. 

But  then,  sharp  across  her  penitence  came  the 
thought  —  was  she  wrong,  after  all?  Had  she 
not  treated  George  as  a  self-respecting  maiden 
should  ?  Could  she,  in  truth  and  honesty,  beg 
Herman's  pardon  ?  He  had  been  deceived  by 
his  sister ;  he  was  not  to  blame  very  greatly  if, 
after  three  years  of  absence,  he  had  been  too 
jealous.  But  could  she  truthfully  acknowledge 
that  she  had  been  to  blame  at  all  ?  She  would 
write  to  Herman.  She  would  not  reproach  him, 
save  that  any  answer  must  be  a  reproach.  But 
if  she  were  to  marry  this  man,  and  fervently 
she  prayed  that  she  might  marry  him,  she  had 
no  right  to  refuse  him  the  truth  ;  and  her  re- 
turning senses  told  her  that  to  cry  out,  "  I  have 
done  wrong,"  to  humble  herself  before  him,  was 
no  truth,  but  a  lie. 

Slowly  she  raised  herself  from  the  pillow  and 
sat  upright  on  the  bed,  her  face  hardening  into 
an  expression  almost  as  stern  as  that  which  she 
had  worn  at  first.  Then,  because  it  was  late,  and 
her  work  began  early  on  the  morrow,  she  went 
downstairs,  helped  her  grandfather  to  his  chamber, 
put  out  the  lights,  shut  up  the  house,  and  then 
lay  down  to  her  rest,  if  haply  she  might  find  it. 


236  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

She  went  through  her  household  duties  the 
next  day  ;  but  before  it  was  noon  found  time 
to  go  up  to  her  own  room  and  seat  herself  to 
write  to  Herman.  Though  the  white  paper  lay 
before  her,  she  could  not  begin.  Time  after 
time  a  beginning  framed  itself  in  her  head,  only 
to  be  cast  aside  as  untruthful,  or  as  unkind  to 
Herman.  At  last  she  forced  herself  to  write. 

DEAR  HERMAN,  —  I  received  your  letter  from  Sa- 
vannah yesterday  evening.  Whether  you  were  right 
or  wrong  in  accusing  me  as  you  did,  you  yourself  shall 
judge.  I  shall  not  defend  or  excuse  anything  that  I  have 
done,  for  —  God  forgive  me  if  I  say  unwittingly  that 
which  is  untrue  —  I  can  find  nothing  in  my  acts  or  in 
my  thoughts  in  this  respect  for  which  I  ought  to  blame 
myself.  In  one  thing  your  sister  is  right :  we  are  not 
quite  so  well  off  as  we  have  been,  and  my  father  and 
mother  made  up  their  minds  to  take  two  boarders. 
One  of  them  seemed  to  find  pleasure  in  talking  to  me 
as  a  friend.  Even  your  sister  has  done  him  justice, 
for  I  shall  not  deny  that  I  enjoyed  his  conversation 
more  than  that  of  any  mere  friend  I  ever  met.  If 
I  were  to  describe  him  as  anything  but  what  he  is,  I 
should  be  insulting  the  love  I  have  for  you,  by  showing 
that  it  had  made  me  blind  to  the  good  there  is  in  other 
men,  instead  of  helping  me  to  appreciate  them  better. 
He  was  able  to  save  me  from  being  killed  by  catching 
me  when  I  was  falling  back  under  a  train  of  cars ;  but 
in  this  he  did  only  what  any  man  standing  where  he 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  237 

stood  must  have  done,  and  I  do  not  owe  him  any  very 
great  gratitude  for  it,  nor  did  he  claim  any  gratitude  at 
all.  From  a  remark  made  by  Mr.  Urquhart,  his  com- 
panion, which  I  overheard  by  accident,  I  had  reason 
to  fear  that  Mr.  Holyoke  was  coming  to  look  on  me  as 
something  more  than  a  friend.  Naturally  he  did  not 
know  that  we  were  engaged.  Whether  he  loved  me 
or  not,  I  did  not  know  then,  I  do  not  know  even  now ; 
but,  fearing  he  might  be  encouraging  himself  in  a  belief 
which  had  no  foundation,  I  thought  it  best  to  tell  him 
that  I  had  given  my  word  to  another  man.  That  was 
the  day  when  we  walked  together  at  Lake  Marby.  He 
thanked  me  for  the  confidence  which  I  had  shown 
him  by  trusting  such  a  secret  to  his  care,  and  I  have 
seen  him  but  once  since.  Now  you  can  judge  whether 
you  have  done  right  in  calling  me  false,  and  in  charg- 
ing me  with  breaking  my  word.  You  know  all, — 
more,  of  course,  than  your  sister  knew ;  for  I  do  not 
think  myself  bound  to  render  an  account  to  her. 

She  paused.  Her  justification  was  over,  and 
she  longed  to  put  at  the  end  of  her  letter  some 
word  of  love  that  should  ask  for  love  in  return  ; 
but  she  feared  that  in  doing  so  she  should  turn 
aside  from  the  plain  truth  she  had  tried  to  tell, 
—  the  truth  which  she  owed  to  Herman  far  more 
than  to  herself.  So  she  signed  the  letter  as  she 
always  had  signed  her  letters  to  him  before,  — 
"Truly  yours,  Mary  Rogers." 


238  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 


XIV. 

A  FEW  days  afterwards,  Mrs.  Standish,  who 
did  not  wish  her  guests  to  weary  of  the 
quiet  of  Stapleton,  which  evil-disposed  people 
might  call  monotony,  proposed  an  excursion  of 
several  days  to  the  island  lying  to  the  south- 
ward, whose  shores,  on  a  clear  day,  could  be 
seen  clouding  the  horizon.  She  had  come  to 
include  George  and  Roger  in  the  number  of  her 
guests,  and,  laughing,  used  to  tell  the  former 
that  he  had  better  give  up  the  pretence  of  living 
in  the  village. 

There  were  days  when  he  would  have  been 
very  glad  to  take  her  advice.  There  were  others, 
when,  finding  that  Clara  was  riding  with  Harry 
Larkyns,  he  wished  that  he  had  the  strength 
of  mind  to  give  up  Cornlands  altogether ;  for 
he  could  not  make  out  what  Clara's  feelings 
toward  him  might  be.  The  question  became 
more  interesting  day  by  day  ;  but  the  more 
interesting  it  became,  the  more  ingeniously  did 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  239 

the  answer  hide  itself  from  him.  She  was 
frank  with  him,  showed  pleasure  in  his  society, 
or,  what  pleased  him  most,  confided  to  him 
thoughts  which  he  believed  she  could  not  trust 
to  all  the  world  ;  an  hour  after,  she  was  laugh- 
ing at  Harry's  sallies,  or  encouraging  him  in 
one  of  his  occasional  fits  of  sobriety.  There 
were  times  when  George  cast  about  him  for 
some  one  in  whom  he  could  confide  ;  but  for  all 
that  he  was  a  warm  friend,  and  —  which  is  but 
the  other  side  of  the  same  quality  —  had  received 
the  warm  friendship  of  others,  he  did  not  like  to 
trust  his  innermost  thoughts  to  any  one ;  with- 
out father  or  mother,  perforce  he  was  accustomed 
to  stand  alone.  Whatever  he  thought  about  the 
wisdom  of  going  to  Cornlands,  his  practice 
never  varied,  and  he  accepted  Mrs.  Standish's 
invitation  most  eagerly. 

Roger  accepted  it  also,  but  with  very  different 
feelings.  He  had  become  very  genuinely  inter- 
ested in  Hildegarde  Standish.  When  he  was 
with  her  she  seemed  to  him  thoroughly  honest 
in  the  frankness  with  which  she  spoke  on  the 
most  serious  subjects.  After  he  had  left  her, 
a  fear  would  steal  into  his  mind  lest  it  might  be 
some  form  of  cant  better  disguised  than  any 
he  had  met  with  before.  Once  or  twice  he  had 


242  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

had  added  the  last  twist  to  his  last  dog's  tail,  or 
had  sharpened  the  point  of  his  last  flag-staff,  the 
painter,  who  in  the  mean  time  had  been  making 
sketches  from  a  kaleidoscope,  came  in  and  fin- 
ished the  work. 

And  all  about,  the  worldlings  were  giving 
themselves  up  to  every  kind  of  pleasure,  inno- 
cent or  guilty. 

Not  three  hundred  yards  from  the  sea,  on 
one  of  the  chief  thoroughfares,  was  the  entrance 
to  the  camp-ground.  In  a  very  few  years  the 
stockade  would  be  broken  down,  the  worldlings 
would  wander  through  the  deserted  place,  and, 
according  as  their  nature  was,  would  jeer  or 
smile  at  the  ruins  of  ancient  fanaticism.  But 
now  the  battle  was  not  over,  and,  securely  in- 
trenched, the  faithful  bid  defiance  to  all  the 
forms  of  vice  and  most  of  the  forms  of  pleasure 
which  attracted  their  neighbors. 

Their  houses,  the  most  made  of  the  lightest 
possible  frame  covered  with  sail-cloth,  and 
crowded  close  together,  formed  crooked  streets 
and  lanes  where  you  could  walk  but  could  not 
drive.  Over  many  of  these  streets  they  had 
stretched  awnings  and  had  made  the  paths 
beautiful  with  flowers  and  rustic  baskets,  and 
gay,  because  the  houses,  frontless  like  a  tent, 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  243 

were  curtained  within  with  pink  or  pale  blue 
gauze  and  bright  with  illuminated  texts.  For 
these  people  had  come  to  Grove  Heights  to 
make  a  change  in  their  lives  and  to  get  a  breath 
of  sea  air  as  well  as  to  worship,  and  they  had 
enjoyed  themselves  very  much  in  their  own 
quiet  way  until  they  had  been  cut  off  from  the 
water  by  those  who  did  not  come  to  worship  at 
all,  or  who  thought  that  they  fulfilled  their  re- 
ligious duties  by  going  on  Sunday  to  a  Chinese 
pagoda  which  served  on  week-days  as  a  concert 
room  and  a  summer  school.  Here  and  there  in 
an  open  space  the  good  people  had  beaten  the 
sand  into  a  hard  floor,  on  which  they  had  set 
out  the  wickets  for  croquet ;  and  here  at  certain 
hours  of  the  day  even  the  younger  ministers 
contended  with  the  younger  members  of  their 
flocks. 

But  when  Mrs.  Standish  and  her  party  went 
through  the  narrow  gate  which  admitted  within 
the  pale,  there  was  not  a  sound  to  be  heard,  not 
a  person  to  be  seen  in  the  streets,  and  the  few 
people  who  were  sitting  quietly  in  their  frontless 
houses  seemed  ashamed  of  being  there.  From 
lane  to  lane  the  party  wandered,  instinctively 
hushed  by  the  quiet  of  the  place,  unbroken  by 
man  or  beast,  until  suddenly,  not  far  off,  rose 


244  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

the  sound  of  a  mighty  congregation  of  men  and 
women  singing.  They  turned  toward  the  sound, 
and  came  in  a  few  moments  into  the  centre  of 
the  camp-ground. 

Around  a  large  circle  were  pitched  some 
thirty  large  tents,  each  one  able  to  shelter  fifty 
or  sixty  people.  Through  the  middle  of  each 
was  drawn  a  curtain,  separating  the  men  from 
the  women,  and  in  this  primitive  way  almost  a 
whole  parish  might  be  lodged.  On  the  end  of 
the  tent  looking  toward  the  enclosed  circle  was 
a  placard  bearing  the  name  of  the  religious  so- 
ciety that  owned  it ;  and  in  these  tents,  in  the 
intervals  between  the  three  daily  religious  ser- 
vices held  in  the  great  pavilion,  to  which  the 
whole  camp-meeting  came,  those  who  wished  for 
more  edification  gathered  for  prayer-meetings 
and  praise-meetings  adapted  to  their  special 
spiritual  wants. 

Covering  almost  the  whole  central  space,  its 
guy-lines  reaching  out  on  all  sides  to  the  tents 
about  it,  was  a  huge  pavilion  holding  many  thou- 
sands of  people,  whose  central  staff  carried  aloft 
the  great  red-cross  banner  of  the  camp.  Now  it 
was  crowded  with  men  and  women  singing  to- 
gether and  drowning  the  feeble  voice  of  a  cabi- 
net organ  put  far  down  in  front  to  lead  them. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  24$ 

Mrs.  Standish  and  the  rest  took  seats  on  the 
outer  edge  of  the  great  congregation,  which  sank 
down  as  soon  as  the  hymn  was  over. 

Directly  in  front,  at  one  end  of  the  pavilion,  — 
if  anything  so  nearly  round  can  have  an  end,  — 
was  a  raised  platform  for  the  preachers  and  min- 
isters. Here  were  sixty  or  seventy  men  sitting 
on  long  settees  facing  the  congregation,  —  men 
from  all  over  the  country,  of  all  ages  and  all 
characters.  There  was  the  old  country  parson, 
whose  white  hair  was  a  crown  of  glory  to  a  life 
well  spent,  whose  patient  practice  of  honesty 
and  frugality  throughout  the  week  was  far  more 
eloquent  than  his  preaching  in  praise  of  the 
same  on  Sunday.  He  knew  how  hard  it  was  to 
arouse  the  spiritual  natures  of  his  people  ;  world- 
liness  was  a  heavy  weight  round  the  necks  of 
the  elders  ;  perhaps  infidelity  was  alluring  from 
the  narrow  way  the  steps  of  the  young;  and, 
worse  than  all,  he  felt  that  his  own  hope  and 
faith  were  not  so  buoyant  as  they  had  been  fifty 
years  ago.  He  had  come  to  the  camp-meeting 
to  drink  of  the  fountain  of  life,  and  to  learn  with 
due  humility  from  those  wiser  than  himself  how 
to  persuade  his  flock  to  follow  his  example. 

By  his  side  sat  a  callow  youth,  who  might 
be  his  grandson,  just  come  from  the  seminary, 


246  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

vastly  more  enlightened  than  his  neighbor,  whose 
prejudices  he  despised  and  whose  nobility  he 
hardly  tried  to  understand,  —  a  young  man  who 
could  criticise  familiarly  the  great  lights  of  the 
denomination,  and  whose  ambition  would  chafe  if 
shut  in  by  the  farmhouses  and  stone  walls  of  a 
country  parish.  He  had  come  to  the  camp-meet- 
ing because  he  wished  his  light  to  shine  before 
men,  and  because  he  knew  that  if  his  eloquent 
appeals  and  irresistible  logic  could  be  heard  but 
once,  every  city  flock  would  seek  him  for  its 
shepherd. 

There,  too,  was  a  man  whose  unctuous,  plia- 
ble face  seemed  strangely  out  of  keeping  with 
that  of  the  white-haired  country  parson,  though 
the  latter,  perhaps,  was  unconscious  of  the  dif- 
ference. This  man  was  powerful  in  prayer  and 
stirring  in  discourse,  —  so  thought  the  female 
half  of  his  flock,  at  least,  though  the  men  might 
speak  of  sharp  bargains  and  acts  which  savored 
more  of  cunning  than  of  honesty  ;  and  so  there 
would  be  much  strife  between  husband  and 
wife,  and  hard  words  on  both  sides,  until  some 
day  there  would  be  a  fearful  scandal  in  the 
church  at  Jonesville,  and  its  appointed  leader 
would  become  a  convict  or  an  outlaw.  Then 
would  infidels  rejoice,  as  if  they  had  not  known 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY,  247 

before   that   a   clergyman's  cloak   is   not  proof 
positive  of  his  holiness. 

To  the  small  pulpit  in  front  of  the  platform, 
out  from  among  his  brethren,  came  a  tall,  thin 
man,  still  young,  with  long,  dark  hair  and  beard, 
and  piercing  eyes  that  blazed  forth  brightly 
above  his  sunken  cheeks  as  he  looked  out  over 
the  congregation  before  he  began  to  speak. 

"  Brethren  and  Sisters  :  I  take  my  text  from 
words  of  the  gospel  familiar  to  all  of  you,  - 
words  that  you  will  not  have  to  hunt  up  in  your 
Bibles,  you  have  heard  them  so  often  before. 
'  For  what  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  shall  gain 
the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ? '  '  Or 
if  thine  eye  offend  thee,  pluck  it  out  and  cast 
it  from  thee ;  it  is  better  for  thee  to  enter  into 
life  having  one  eye,  rather  than  having  two  eyes 
to  be  cast  into  hell  fire.' 

"  You  have  heard  these  words  a  great  many 
times  with  your  ears,  I  know ;  but  I  declare  to 
you  that  you  never  have  understood  them  with 
your  hearts,  any  more  than  if  they  had  been 
spoken  to  you  in  a  foreign  tongue.  If  any  one 
of  you  saw  a  man  walking  at  night  along  a  road 
which  a  hundred  feet  before  him  broke  off  at  a 
precipice  that  had  no  bottom  ;  if  that  man  was 
going  along  looking  about  him  right  and  left, 


248  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

and  singing  as  he  went,  you  would  call  to  him 
and  warn  him  of  his  danger.  If  he  made  no 
answer,  and  went  on  singing  as  before,  you 
would  call  again,  you  would  shout  to  him  ;  and 
so  you  would  do  until,  come  to  the  edge  of 
the  chasm,  singing  and  looking  about  him  still, 
he  sank  down  from  your  sight  forever.  You 
would  shout  to  him  a  second  and  a  third  and  a 
fourth  time,  louder  and  louder  yet,  as  he  drew 
nearer  and  nearer  the  precipice.  Why  ?  Not 
because  you  believed  that  he  was  bent  upon 
killing  himself,  and  you  hoped  to  persuade  him 
to  live,  but  because  you  felt  that  he  could  not 
have  heard  when  you  called  before.  So  I  repeat 
these  words  which  have  been  spoken  to  you 
before,  hoping  that  some  of  you  may  understand 
them  now,  knowing  how  few  of  you  ever  have 
understood  them  yet.  God  has  made  me,  as 
he  made  the  holy  prophet  Ezekiel  of  old,  a 
watchman  to  his  people.  He  has  put  these 
words  into  my  mouth  as  a  trumpet  wherewith 
to  call  you  to  repent ;  and  he  speaks  to  me  as  he 
spake  to  Ezekiel,  saying,  that  if  the  sword  come 
upon  the  land,  and  I  blow  not  this  trumpet,  ye 
indeed  shall  die  in  your  iniquity,  but  your 
blood  he  will  require  at  my  hand.  O  God,  give 
thy  servant  strength  so  to  blow  this  trumpet, 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  249 

that  I  may  not  only  deliver  my  soul  from  the 
blood  of  these  thy  children,  but  that  they  also 
may  repent  while  yet  there  is  time !  To-day 
you  shall  hear  ;  you  may  forget  next  week  or 
to-morrow  or  to-night,  or  even  as  you  leave  this 
tent.  I  know  that  many  of  you  will  try  not  to 
hear,  that  most  of  you  will  try  to  forget  ;  but 
once,  for  one  moment,  you  shall  hear,  and,  what 
is  more  awful,  you  shall  be  forced  to  choose 
between  God  and  the  Devil. 

"  If,  as  you  sit  here  now,  you  knew  that  some- 
where just  outside  this  camp-ground  two  men 
were  throwing  dice  for  you,  and  you  knew  that 
if  the  first  of  those  men  won,  you  would  be 
condemned  to  pass  the  rest  of  your  life  in  a 
dungeon  black  as  the  blackest  cavern  of  the 
Mammoth  Cave  at  midnight,  without  hope  of 
escape  or  any  consolation  until  death  released 
you,  how  many  of  you  could  go  about  with 
smiling  faces,  slandering  your  neighbors  with 
scandalous  gossip,  and  thinking  with  all  your 
little  might  about  the  last  new  gew-gaw  you 
have  put  on  your  back,  or  the  next  dainty  mor- 
sel you  will  put  in  your  belly  ?  It  might  be 
that  you  could  not  change  the  fall  of  the  dice, 
that  you  could  not  help  yourselves ;  but  would 
there  be  an  eye  closed  in  all  this  camp  to-night  ? 


250  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY, 

But  if  you  knew  that  the  chances  were  not  even, 
that  it  did  not  hang  on  chance  at  all;  if  you 
knew  that  you  surely  would  be  condemned  to  a 
punishment  so  awful  that  you  could  not  con- 
ceive of  it,  unless  you  made  some  tremendous 
struggle,  unless  before  to-morrow  noon  you 
should  go  the  whole  length  of  this  island  from 
Oldtown  to  Rainbow  Head,  —  would  you  go  on 
still,  tittle-tattling  and  smirking,  or  would  it 
be  that  in  less  time  than  it  takes  you  now  to 
drive  a  bargain  or  put  on  a  bonnet,  there  would 
not  be  left  in  this  camp  a  living  soul  ?  I  hear 
you  all  saying,  'There  are  not  two  men  just 
outside  the  camp  deciding  what  shall  happen  to 
us  ;  there  are  no  dark  dungeons  waiting  for  us  ; 
and  no  pilgrimage  to  Rainbow  Head  or  to  any 
other  place  will  do  us  any  good.'  That  is  very 
true,  every  word  of  it,  —  it  is  nothing  but  a  fancy 
of  mine ;  but  there  are  some  things  which  are 
real,  and  look  whether  you  like  them  better. 
It  is  not  two  men  outside  the  camp,  it  is  not 
outside  the  camp  at  all,  —  it  is  here,  nearer  to 
every  one  of  you  than  the  man  or  woman  who 
sits  next  him  on  the  bench  ;  it  is  not  two  men,  it 
is  God  and  the  Devil  struggling  in  your  hearts. 
Would  you  rather  fall  into  the  hands  of  man,  or 
into  the  hands  of  the  Devil  ? 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  2$l 

"  There  are  no  dark  dungeons  where  all  the  in- 
genuity of  man  has  been  put  forth  to  torture  you, 
—  the  rack  and  fire  and  thirst.  When  a  man 
falls  into  the  hands  of  men,  his  body  becomes 
worn  out  at  last,  and  his  nerves  so  dulled  that  he 
can  scarcely  suffer,  and  at  last  he  dies.  But  in 
hell  the  pain  cannot  bring  relief;  the  Devil  is  a 
great  deal  more  ingenious  than  we  are,  and  he 
can  make  us  so  sensitive  that  the  slightest 
scratch  would  give  us  more  pain  than  the  most 
horrible  torture  does  now.  And  then,  trust  me, 
he  will  not  scratch  us,  he  will  do  to  us  that 
which  is  a  million  million  times  more  horrible 
than  anything  we  can  conceive.  And  there  is 
no  death  in  hell  ;  it  is  an  eternity  of  pain  and 
horror.  Do  you  know  what  eternity  means  ?  I 
have  heard  its  years  likened  to  the  sands  of  the 
sea-shore  in  number,  but  that  is  false  ;  it  gives 
no  more  idea  of  eternity  than  if  I  were  to  tell 
you  that  ten  or  twenty  years  made  an  eternity. 
If  one  of  you  were  bound  to  a  mountain  of  liv- 
ing rock,  so  that  you  could  move  neither  hand 
nor  foot,  and  so  that  your  chains  could  never 
rust  nor  be  broken,  —  the  time  it  would  take 
such  a  man  to  go  from  that  mountain  to  the 
uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  would  be  an  eter- 
nity. And  it  is  from  such  an  eternity  of  such 


252  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

punishment  that  I  cannot  describe  it,  and  that  I 
would  not  describe  it  if  I  could,  for  the  very 
hearing  of  it  would  blast  you  where  you  sit,  —  it 
is  from  this  that  repentance,  and  repentance 
alone,  can  save  you. 

"  And  what  does  repentance  mean  ?  If  you 
could  escape  from  the  horror  I  have  just  spoken 
of  by  any  sacrifice,  would  it  not  be  worth  the 
sacrifice  ?  Is  there  anything  that  you  would  not 
do  that  you  might  die  forever  and  so  escape  from 
hell  ?  Would  you  not  be  willing  to  starve  and 
beat  and  torture  yourselves  as  the  poor  igno- 
rant Catholic  monks  do,  if  that  would  save  your 
future  life  from  hell  ?  But  that  is  not  what  God 
asks  you  to  do ;  you  must  lay  hold  on  Christ  and 
be  washed  in  his  atoning  blood, —  that  is  all. 
But  the  saying  that  you  will  do  or  that  you  have 
done  these  things  may  not  make  you  anything 
more  than  a  hypocrite.  It  is  not  the  saying 
'  Lord,  Lord,'  that  will  save  you.  In  the  second 
of  the  verses  which  I  chose  as  my  text,  Christ 
has  told  us  plainly  what  the  taking  up  his  cross 
means.  He  does  not  wish  us  to  maim  ourselves, 
thinking  that  it  is  more  pleasant  for  God  to  be- 
hold a  maimed  man  than  one  who  is  whole.  He 
does  not  wish  us  to  be  like  the  miserable  der- 
vishes who  sleep  on  sharp  nails  and  stiffen  their 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  253 

arms  by  holding  them  above  their  heads.  It  is 
our  souls  that  God  looks  at,  not  our  bodies  ; 
the  most  beautiful  man  on  earth  and  the  most 
deformed  cripple  are  alike  in  his  sight.  But  if 
our  hands  or  our  eyes  or  any  other  things  which 
we  possess  are  hindering  our  souls  from  turning 
to  him,  we  are  to  give  up  these  things  without 
a  thought.  We  bear  the  pain  of  having  our 
hands  and  our  feet  cut  off,  to  prevent  them  from 
rotting  the  rest  of  our  bodies  ;  shall  we  save 
them  when  they  are  rotting  our  souls  ? 

"  But  some  of  you  will  tell  me  that  you  have 
repented.  God  forbid  that  I  should  be  your 
judge  ;  I  cannot  see  your  hearts.  But  let  me 
tell  you  it  is  no  light  and  easy  thing  to  enter 
the  kingdom  of  God.  Repentance  does  not  con- 
sist in  going  to  church  on  Sundays  or  even  in 
coming  to  camp-meeting ;  it  does  not  consist  in 
seeking  after  righteousness  a  quarter  or  a  half 
or  nine  tenths  of  the  time  ;  it  does  not  consist 
in  trying  to  make  peace  between  God  and  the 
Devil.  Every  moment  that  you  leave  hold  of 
God,  though  it  be  for  a  second  and  no  more,  the 
Devil  has  you  fast.  You  cannot  be  independent : 
you  must  belong  to  one  or  the  other  ;  and  if  you 
die  belonging  to  the  Devil,  he  holds  you  forever. 
You  must  seek  earnestly  after  God  the  whole 


254  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

time  in  order  to  find  him  ;  it  is  not  God  first 
and  business  and  pleasure  afterward,  but  it  is 
God  last  as  well  as  first.  What  should  you  think 
of  a  man  who  was  at  the  pumps  of  a  vessel  into 
which  the  water  ran  so  fast  that  it  was  only  when 
he  strained  every  muscle  in  his  body  that  the 
water  did  not  gain  on  him,  —  what  should  you 
think  of  such  a  man  if,  after  he  had  pumped  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour,  he  should  say,  'Business  first  and 
pleasure  afterward,'  and  should  leave  off  pumping, 
and  dance  a  hornpipe  on  the  deck  of  the  sinking 
vessel  ?  Or  suppose  the  vessel  had  gone  down, 
and  he  was  swimming  for  his  life,  —  what  should 
you  think  if,  after  he  had  swum  five  hundred 
strokes,  he  should  say  to  himself, '  There  is  a  time 
for  everything  ;  I  will  stop  swimming  now,  and 
begin  again  in  a  few  minutes  '  ?  Let  me  tell 
you,  friends,  that  to  escape  the  Devil  we  must 
pump  and  swim  the  whole  time.  You  must  give 
up  your  whole  time  to  the  work  of  salvation. 
When  you  get  up  in  the  early  morning,  in  the  heat 
of  the  noonday,  in  the  cool  of  the  evening,  and 
when  you  wake  up  from  sleep  at  midnight,  you 
must  be  scheming  to  get  hold  of  God  and  to  get 
away  from  the  Devil.  I  do  not  believe  that  the 
Devil  sleeps  at  all ;  and  if  we  must  sleep  some- 
times, we  must  be  all  the  more  zealous  every 
instant  that  we  are  awake. 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  2$$ 

"  And  there  are  some  of  you,  I  am  afraid  a 
great  many  of  you,  who  think,  though  you  may 
be  afraid  to  speak  it  out,  that  repentance  is  very 
important  indeed,  but  that  it  can  wait.  You  ask 
me  if  the  laborers  who  began  their  work  in  the 
vineyard  at  the  eleventh  hour  did  not  get  the 
same  wages  as  those  who  bore  the  burden  and 
heat  of  the  day.  Ah,  my  brethren,  I  wish  that 
any  one  of  you  knew  this  holy  Book  as  well  as 
the  Devil  does ;  for  it  was  the  Devil  who  helped 
you  to  that  Scripture.  True,  those  last  men  got 
the  same  wages  as  the  first ;  but  you  do  not  know 
that  they  had  refused  to  enter  the  Master's  ser- 
vice at  the  third  and  the  sixth  and  the  ninth 
hour.  I  believe  that  they  never  had  heard  his 
voice  before  they  obeyed  his  call,  and  God  for- 
bid that  I  should  compare  a  poor  dying  heathen, 
who  at  threescore  and  ten  clutches  the  gospel  as 
soon  as  the  missionary  offers  it  to  him,  and  dies 
happy  in  the  faith  of  his  crucified  Lord,  with  you, 
case-hardened  sinners,  who  have  heard  the  gos- 
pel ever  since  you  could  speak.  You,  certainly, 
will  be  punished  not  with  a  few  stripes.  And  at 
the  eleventh  hour  there  are  not  so  many  men 
in  the  market-place  as  there  were  in  the  morn- 
ing. A  great  many  of  them  are  dead ;  and  what 
has  become  of  the  dead  ones,  you  know.  Trust 


256  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

me,  brethren,  a  whole  lifetime,  from  the  hour 
when  we  first  can  think,  up  to  that  moment 
when  God  calls  us  to  judgment,  is  none  too 
long  to  serve  the  Lord.  His  mercies  are  bound- 
less, and  it  may  not  be  too  late  for  the  worst  sin- 
ner on  his  death-bed  to  repent ;  but  sometimes  I 
think  that  when  the  last  trump  is  sounded,  and 
some  man  tries  to  enter  heaven,  and  shows  a 
death-bed  repentance  as  his  certificate  of  the 
right  to  pass  the  gate,  God  will  say  to  him,  '  It 
was  very  little  that  I  asked  of  you.  A  whole 
life  given  to  my  service  is  a  very  small  price  to 
pay  for  the  right  to  enter  here.  You  cannot 
choose  the  Devil  on  earth  and  Me  in  heaven.' 

"  Oh,  brethren  and  sisters,  if  you  could  but 
see  where  you  stand,  if  your  eyes  could  be 
opened  and  your  ears  unstopped,  you  could 
not  live  as  you  have  lived,  with  hell  opening 
all  around  you  and  only  one  narrow  way  of 
escape.  If  that  way  led  to  the  destruction  of 
body  and  soul,  still  you  would  take  it  eagerly ; 
but  it  does  not  lead  there.  There  is  another 
question  which  our  Saviour  might  have  asked, 
and  which  he  has  answered  in  another  place,  — 
'  For  what  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  lose  the 
whole  world  and  gain  his  own  soul  ? '  'In  my 
Father's  house  are  many  mansions/  and  what 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  257 

those  mansions  hold,  '  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear 
heard,  neither  hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of 
man  to  conceive.'  Compared  with  such  joy 
everlasting,  shall  we  fear  pain  on  earth  ?  Com- 
pared with  everlasting  hell,  shall  we  think  of 
earthly  joy  ? " 


258  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 


XV. 

'  INHERE  was  a  large  balcony  opening  out  of 
-*-  Mrs.  Standish's  parlor  in  the  Sea-Breeze 
House,  and  hanging  almost  above  the  water. 
On  the  evening  of  the  same  day  the  gentlemen 
of  the  party  were  gathered  there,  smoking  and 
looking  listlessly  out  at  the  moon-wake  and 
clown  at  the  cluster  of  yachts  at  their  feet,  whose 
lights  were  like  so  many  fire-flies.  Roger  broke 
the  silence,  speaking  with  a  strange  compound 
of  earnestness  and  superciliousness. 

"  Now,  what  sort  of  ideas  do  you  suppose  those 
people  got  from  that  sermon  we  have  just  heard  ? 
Do  you  imagine  that  it  produced  some  real  effect 
on  them,  or  have  they  heard  the  same  thing  so 
often  before -that  they  don't  pay  any  attention 
when  you  cry  'wolf  ?" 

No  one  spoke,  and,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
Roger  went  on  again  :  "  And  a  precious  kind 
of  religion  they  must  have  if  they  do  believe 
what  he  says.  With  a  very  much  damaged 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  259 

stock  in  trade  he  is  trying  to  bully  them  into 
doing  what  he  thinks  is  right,  —  bullying,  with 
a  little  bribery  thrown  in.  As  if  there  were 
any  great  credit  in  keeping  my  hands  off  my 
neighbor's  goods  when  I  know  there  is  a  police- 
man who  will  take  me  up  as  soon  as  I  take  up 
the  plunder  !  He  must  have  very  exalted  no- 
tions of  human  nature  when  he  talks  like  that. 
I  don't  wonder  he  had  to  get  up  the  idea  of  total 
depravity  to  help  him  out.  Take  a  man  whose 
whole  religion  and  morality  (for  I  suppose  he 
would  scoff  at  the  idea  that  there  could  be  such 
a  thing  as  morality  without  his  peculiar  form  of 
religion)  depend  upon  such  abject  fear,  and  how 
far  would  you  trust  him  ? "  he  asked,  turning  first 
to  George  and  then  to  Peter  Arrstey. 

"  Not  very  far,  certainly,"  said  Peter,  some- 
what faintly. 

"  No,  I  should  think  not ;  and  that  is  the  kind 
of  stuff  that  these  people  hear  every  week.  And 
when  they  find  out  that  his  Devil  and  his  hell  are 
as  imaginary  as  —  well,  as  his  heaven,  they  will 
lose  their  morality  as  well  as  their  religion." 

"  Come  now,"  said  George,  "  leave  religion 
aside  for  the  moment.  What  would  you  have 
their  morality  depend  upon  ?  " 

"  That 's  rather  a  strange  question  for  you  to 


260  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

ask,"  said  Roger,  turning  toward  him  with  con- 
siderable surprise.  "  Whatever  it  depends  upon, 
it  should  be  something  more  than  mere  terror. 
The  wish  to  help  along  the  human  race  would 
be  a  vastly  better  motive  than  that." 

"  Possibly,  if  it  were  a  real  motive ;  but  you 
can  see  that  it  is  not,  because  I  am  asking  you 
the  question  why  these  people  should  wish  to 
help  along  the  race." 

"  Why  ?  Because  it  is  the  noblest  aspiration 
man  can  have;  because  it  is  right." 

"And  why  should  we  wish  to  do  right?  Or 
are  you  so  bitterly  hostile  to  the  doctrine  of  total 
depravity  as  to  think  that  we  have  a  natural  in- 
clination to  sacrifice  ourselves  for  our  neighbor's 
good  ?  Take  the  world  as  a  whole,  and  I  think 
it  hardly  bears  out  your  theory,  Roger." 

"  No,  I  certainly  don't  believe  that.  Our 
neighbor's  good  is  ours  in  the  long  run,  though," 
said  Roger,  meditatively. 

"  I  can't  agree  to  that,"  said  George,  warming 
to  the  fray,  for  no  man  was  fonder  of  an  argu- 
ment than  he.  "  Our  good  may  be  theirs  in 
most  cases,  but  not  always  in  the  long  run.  You 
would  admit  that  it  is  sometimes  right  for  a  man 
to  meet  certain  and  immediate  death  for  his 
neighbor's  good  ;  without  some  such  doctrine 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  261 

as  we  have  just  heard,  how  can  it  be  for  the 
man's  good  in  any  run,  long  or  short  ? " 

"  But  surely  you,  George  Holyoke,  do  not 
think  that  every  good  action  is  dictated  by  fear 
of  the  consequences  of  not  doing  it.  It  would  n't 
be  a  good  action  if  it  were  ;  and  besides,  you 
know  by  your  own  experience  that  your  doctrine 
is  n't  true." 

"  Yes  ;  you  don't  mean  to  uphold  such  a  theory 
as  that,"  said  Peter  Anstey,  trying  to  take  part 
in  the  conversation. 

"  I  thought  we  were  arguing  it  out  on  the 
plane  of  reason,  without  turning  to  our  feelings," 
said  George.  "  Our  feelings  do  the  most  un- 
reasonable things,  and  act  on  the  most  glaring 
absurdities  sometimes.  I  have  very  little  doubt 
that  the  minister  to-day  was  speaking  according 
to  his  feelings." 

"  Hush !  here  are  the  ladies,"  said  Peter,  as 
Mrs.  Standish  came  through  the  open  window 
out  upon  the  balcony,  followed  by  her  flock. 

"  Don't  throw  away  your  cigars,"  she  said,  as 
she  settled  herself  comfortably  in  a  chair  which 
George  placed  for  her.  "  We  have  travelled  into 
your  territory,  and  ought  to  accept  the  customs 
of  its  inhabitants." 

"  And   when  we   receive   such   distinguished 


262  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

guests,"  said  George,  throwing  his  cigar  into  the 
water,  "  we  flatter  ourselves  that  it  is  the  height 
of  politeness  to  make  them  feel  that  the  land  is 
theirs." 

"  Don't  expect  us  to  treat  you  with  the  same 
consideration  when  you  visit  us  in  our  parlors, 
though,"  said  Ann,  "  or  you  will  find  that  there 
is  something  which  we  regard  more  than  the 
height  of  politeness." 

There  was  a  pause,  broken  at  last  by  Peter 
Anstey,  who  thought  that  all  pauses  in  conver- 
sation are  wrong,  and  that  it  is  better  to  say 
anything  than  to  say  nothing  at  all.  "  We  were 
talking  of  the  sermon  just  as  you  came  out, 
Mrs.  Standish." 

"Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Standish,  "  I  should  not  have 
thought  that  you  would  find  very  much  to  talk 
about  in  the  sermon.  It  was  hardly  worth  your 
trouble,  I  should  say." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  Roger,  dis- 
tinctly. "  Not  worth  talking  about  at  all,  except 
that  it  is  interesting  as  showing  how  a  certain 
class  of  mind  works  when  it  gets  upon  religious 
subjects." 

"  Interesting  ? "  said  Mrs.  Standish.  "  I  hardly 
think  so.  I  know  how  that  class  of  mind  works 
well  enough.  Now,  of  course  we  believe  in  an 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  263 

Evil  Spirit,  and  in  a  place  where  the  wicked  are 
punished  ;  but  I  do  not  think  that  it  is  good  taste 
to  preach  a  sermon  upon  that  and  nothing  else. 
Of  course  religion  is  the  most  important  thing  ; 
but  we  have  other  duties,  and  I  do  not  believe 
in  harrowing  people's  minds  in  that  way." 

"  Yes,"  said  Roger,  speaking  slowly.  "  Even 
if  all  that  he  said  was  true  — " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  quite  understand  what 
you  mean,  Mr.  Urquhart,"  said  Mrs.  Standish, 
interrupting  him.  "  Of  course,  in  one  sense  it 
is  all  true." 

Roger  was  provoked  at  the  interruption. 
"  Of  course,  as  you  say,  it  is  true  in  a  sense  ; 
but  then,  what  is  the  need  of  speaking  out  so 
plainly  ?  As  you  were  just  saying,  it  tends  to 
distress  these  people,  and  distress  is  not  good 
for  most  of  us." 

Mrs.  Standish  herself  did  not  suspect  in  the 
least  that  Roger  was  making  game  of  her,  and, 
excepting  Hildegarde  and  Ann,  the  rest  of  the 
party  were  talking  of  other  things.  Owing  to 
the  darkness,  Roger  did  not  see  Hildegarde,  and 
he  thought  that  Ann  probably  would  appreciate 
the  conversation. 

"  I  always  have  thought,"  said  Mrs.  Standish, 
"  that  these  camp-meetings  did  a  great  deal  of 


264  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

harm  ;  people  come  to  them,  and  their  feelings 
are  very  much  wrought  up.  They  get  into  a 
very  unnatural  state  of  excitement ;  then  they 
go  home  and  are  completely  unfit  for  their  ordi- 
nary duties." 

"  Yes,"  said  Roger.  "  Their  thoughts  become 
very  morbid  and  self-centred,  I  have  no  doubt  ; 
and  I  should  think  that  they  would  find  them- 
selves unfitted  for  the  wear  and  tear  of  every- 
day life.  One's  whole  life  cannot  be  passed  in 
a  camp-meeting,  after  all." 

"  No  ;  and  they  are  apt  to  become  discon- 
tented, and  instead  of  attending  to  their  washing 
and  mending,  and  to  their  children  and  their 
cooking,  they  neglect  their  home  duties  to  go  to 
prayer-meetings,  and  that  sort  of  thing.  Not,  of 
course,  that  prayer-meetings  may  not  be  very 
good  in  their  way  sometimes,  but  this  unnatural 
religious  exaltation  must  have  a  reaction  at  last, 
and  then  they  are  worse  off  .than  they  were 
before." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Roger.  "  We  know  that  if  we 
are  too  strict  with  children,  a  time  will  come 
when  they  will  break  away,  and,  generally  speak- 
ing, will  go  to  the  bad.  So  grown-up  people 
must  have  their  fling.  They  can't  be  thinking 
of  religious  subjects  quite  all  the  time." 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  265 

"  No  ;  and  they  ought  to  think  about  their 
families,  and  their  children's  clothes,  and  their 
husbands'  comforts." 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Roger,  "  I  always  had 
a  sympathy  with  Martha,  who  was  careful  about 
many  things." 

"  Did  you  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Standish,  stiffly,  for 
she  did  not  like  to  speak  of  the  Bible  in  public, 
for  fear  that  by  accident  she  might  say  some- 
thing irreverent.  "  But  you  know  that  it  was 
our  Lord  to  whom  Mary  was  listening,  and  of 
course  that  makes  all  the  difference.  One  can't 
reason  from  that  to  an  ordinary  sermon.  Now, 
I  am  very  much  more  strict  about  going  to 
church  than  a  great  many  people  are  nowadays. 
I  always  go  twice  a  day  in  the  city,  and  once  in 
the  country.  I  should  go  twice  if  it  were  not 
so  far  ;  but  I  think  there  is  a  time  and  place  for 
everything." 

"  And  if  that  is  true  when  applied  to  you,  who 
are  rich,  and  supposed  to  have  more  leisure,  it 
certainly  is  truer  of  these  people,  who  are  more 
or  less  poor,  and  have  to  work  for  their  living." 

"  I  don't  know  about  my  having  more  leisure," 
said  Mrs.  Standish.  "  As  far  as  I  can  see,  my 
time  is  taken  up  as  fully  as  any  one's.  When 
I  am  in  town,  there  is  the  Aged  and  Indigent 


266  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

Female  Shop-people ;  and  down  here  the  days 
pass  very  quickly  somehow.  Still,  what  you 
say  is  true.  Of  course,  we  ought  to  be  better 
than  they  are,  I  suppose  —  Ah !  Mr.  Larkyns, 
how  do  the  preparations  come  on  for  our  trip 
to  Rainbow  Head  ? " 

"We  have  provided  for  transportation,"  said 
Harry,  "  two  carriages,  if  you  like  a  high- 
sounding  name  ;  or  wagons,  if  you  prefer  truth 
to  elegance ;  or  teams,  if  you  have  a  fancy  for 
speaking  the  native  lingo." 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  call  them  ;  but  I  hope 
that  they  are  good." 

"  They  say  that  the  teams  are  excellent  and 
the  roads  not  bad  ;  but  there  is  some  mysterious 
quality  in  the  native  mile  which  gets  the  better 
even  of  the  best  horse,  and  prevents  him  from 
making  more  than  five  in  an  hour.  To  think 
that  the  fault  is  in  the  horse  or  the  road  would 
be  to  doubt  the  solemn  word  of  these  poor 
but  honest  men  ;  and  I  have  n't  the  heart  to  do 
that." 

"  I  suppose  that  we  shall  get  there  well 
enough,"  said  Mrs.  Standish  ;  "  but  how  are  we 
to  live  there  ? " 

"  As  a  long  day  (which  would  have  been 
tedious  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  brilliant  con- 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  267 

versation  of  the  ladies)  was  drawing  to  its  close," 
Harry  began,  "  and  as  the  carriages  were  mount- 
ing the  last  slopes  of  Rainbow  Head,  a  scene  of 
singular  beauty  greeted  the  eyes  of  the  travel- 
lers. It  was  no  natural  object  that  excited  their 
admiration,  for  the  gayly  colored  cliffs  could  not 
yet  be  seen,  and  there  were  no  other  natural  ob- 
jects on  Rainbow  Head  except  a  few  dilapidated 
furze-bushes  and  a  great  deal  of  sand ;  it  was 
not  even  the  light-house  :  the  parting  rays  of  the 
setting  sun  shed  a  slightly  pinkish  glory  on  the 
tented  walls  of  a  neatly  pitched  encampment, 
from  the  central  pavilion  of  which  floated  the 
ancestral  banner  of  the  Standishes.  I  trust  you 
have  an  ancestral  banner,  Mrs.  Standish." 

"  I  never  have  seen  it.  But  tell  me,  will 
an  ancestral  banner  keep  the  mosquitoes  and 
toads  out  of  the  tents  and  the  sand  out  of  the 
butter  ? " 

"  How  can  you  doubt  it  ? "  said  Harry.  "  I 
appeal  to  your  reading  and  to  your  experience. 
Tell  me  (if  you  will  allow  me  to  use  the  Socratic 
method),  when  your  friends  camped  out,  as  they 
vulgarly  called  it,  did  they  take  an  ancestral 
banner  with  them  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  ever  heard  of,"  said  Mrs.  Standish, 
smiling. 


268  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  But  I  think  that  they  did  have  mosquitoes 
and  toads  and  so  forth,  did  they  not  ?  " 

"  So  they  said." 

"  Exactly  ;  they  were  quite  sure  to  mention 
it.  Now,  when  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion,  or  some 
other  hero,  slept  on  the  tented  field,  was  he  not 
very  careful  to  have  an  ancestral  banner  in  the 
vicinity  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  believe  so." 

"And,  I  appeal  to  you,  is  it  mentioned  any- 
where that  his  tent  was  full  of  mosquitoes  and 
toads,  or  even  that  his  butter  was  mixed  with 
sand  ?  Did  he  ever  say, '  Ho,  Sir  Roger,  remove 
that  toad  ; '  or, '  What  mean  ye,  minions,  by  sand- 
ing this  butter  '  ?  Now  there  certainly  was  sand 
in  Palestine,  and  therefore  it  must  have  been  the 
ancestral  banner  that  kept  it  out  of  his  tent." 

"  I  am  convinced,"  said  Mrs.  Standish.  "  Are 
you  going  in,  Clara?"  she  said,  turning  round, 
as  Clara,  followed  by  George,  went  into  the 
house. 

"  I  have  persuaded  Miss  Ellison,"  said  George, 
"to  take  a  short  stroll  on  the  esplanade,  —  unless 
you  object,"  he  added. 

"I  —  oh,  not  in  the  least,"  said  Mrs.  Standish, 
laughing  good-naturedly. 

"And  may  I  ask  you,  Miss  Standish,"  said 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  269 

Roger,  "  if  you  will  give  me  the  pleasure  of 
acting  as  your  escort  ?  " 

Hildegarde  .looked  up,  with  an  expression  on 
her  face  which  showed  plainly  that  she  meant  to 
refuse  ;  but  her  mother  spoke  before  her.  "  Yes, 
go,  Hilda  dear ;  it  will  be  very  amusing  down 
there."  Still  Hildegarde  looked  doubtful  ;  but 
at  last  her  face  changed  suddenly.  She  said, 
"  Thank  you,"  and  disappeared  with  Roger. 

The  esplanade  was  full  of  people,  strolling 
leisurely  up  and  down,  laughing,  talking,  and 
pretending  to  listen  to  the  band.  Roger  and 
Hildegarde  threaded  their  way  through  the 
crowd,  Roger  amusing  himself  by  watching  the 
varied  expressions  of  face,  brought  out  the  more 
distinctly  as  group  after  group  came  out  of  the 
darkness  into  the  glare  of  a  lamp  and  then 
faded  into  darkness  again.  Real  conversation 
was  impossible  in  the  hubbub  and  confusion; 
and,  when  they  had  reached  the  end  of  the 
promenade,  Roger  proposed  that  they  should 
turn  into  one  of  the  quiet  streets  running  back 
from  the  beach,  and  look  at  the  camp-meeting 
by  night.  Hildegarde  assented,  and  in  a  few 
steps  the  bustle  of  the  crowd  had  turned  into 
silence  scarcely  broken  by  the  distant  music  of 
the  band. 


2/0  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

"What  a  relief!"  said  Roger.  "You  will  find 
just  such  a  relief  at  some  ball  next  winter  when 
you  get  away  from  the  heat  and  turmoil  of  a 
ball-room,  and  the  everlasting  noise  of  a  piano 
and  a  cornet,  into  some  quiet  place  where  you 
can  sit  down  and  talk  about  something  besides 
the  smoothness  of  the  floor  and  the  comparative 
stupidity  of  the  last  ball.  Do  you  know,  though," 
he  went  on,  "  I  hardly  can  imagine  you  talking 
about  such  things." 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Hildegarde,  in  a  tone  which 
startled  him,  though  it  was  low  and  quiet. 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Roger,  repeating  the  question. 
"  Because  —  but,  if  you  will  pardon  me  for  ask- 
ing before  I  answer,  what  have  I  said  or  done 
to  displease  you  ? " 

There  was  a  pause.  Hildegarde  walked  on, 
looking  down  at  the  ground ;  then,  just  as 
Roger  would  have  broken  the  silence  himself, 
she  looked  up  and  spoke,  this  time  without  a 
trace  of  displeasure  in  her  voice. 

"I  am  going  to  tell  you  perfectly  frankly, 
Mr.  Urquhart,  and  not  try  in  the  least  to  pre- 
tend that  I  am  not "  —  she  paused  for  a  word 
—  "disappointed,  —  if  you  wish  me  to." 

"  Certainly ;  I  do  wish  it,"  he  said,  much 
surprised. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  271 

"You  were  talking  just  now  to  my  mother," 
said  Hildegarde,  "  about  the  sermon  we  heard 
to-day.  My  mother  said  many  things  about  it 
which  she  hardly  meant ;  at  any  rate,  she  did 
not  think  of  the  meaning  which  might  be  given 
to  her  words.  But  you  knew  what  yours  meant, 
and,  either  because  it  pleased  you  to  agree 
with  her,  or  because  you  wished  to  make  fun 
of  her,  you  said  that  which  I  believe  you  know 
is  not  true." 

"I  —  how  do  you  mean  ? "  said  Roger,  trying 
to  gain  time. 

"  You  acknowledged  that  what  the  minister 
said  is  true  in  a  sense.  You  know  that  if 
it  is  true  at  all,  it  cannot  be  right  for  men  to 
spend  part  of  their  lives  in  doing  wrong,  and 
that  it  is  nothing  but  the  truth  to  say  that  every 
minute  of  a  long  life  is  not  too  much  time  to 
spend  in  God's  service." 

"But  surely,"  said  Roger,  "you  do  not  think 
that  we  are  to  be  dragooned  into  doing  good  ? " 

"  I  did  not  expect  you  to  agree  with  the  ser- 
mon, Mr.  Urquhart,"  said  Hildegarde,  gently. 
"  Mr.  Anstey  said  that  you  were  talking  about 
it  just  as  we  came  out.  I  believe  you  said  then 
what  you  honestly  thought,  —  that  when  the  min- 
ister spoke  about  heaven  and  hell,  he- was  trying 


2/2  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

to  frighten  us  with  a  story  as  foolish  as  that  of 
Juggernaut.  Why  did  you  not  tell  my  mother 
the  same  thing  ?  It  would  have  been  a  great 
deal  better  argument  in  favor  of  leading  a 
worldly  life,"  she  added,  with  almost  a  smile. 

"  You  hardly  would  expect  me  to  discuss 
the  foundation  of  our  religious  ideas,  Miss 
Standish,"  said  Roger  ;  "  it  was  hardly  the  place 
for  that." 

"  I  had  expected  you  to  speak  the  truth,"  said 
Hildegarde,  in  a  tone  which  touched  Roger. 

"But  I  agreed  with  your  mother,"  he  went 
on,  after  a  moment's  pause.  "  Perhaps  I  do  not 
agree  with  you,  and  that  may  be  my  fault ;  but  I 
do  agree  with  your  mother  that  camp-meetings 
often  do  much  harm.  I  have  thought  so  many 
times." 

"  My  mother  has  not  thought  very  much  about 
it,  and  I  am  afraid  that  she  did  not  realize  what 
she  was  saying ;  but,  so  far  as  she  did  realize, 
she  spoke  honestly.  My  mother  does  not  like 
a  religion  that  rests  too  much  on  the  emotions  ; 
neither  do  you,  because  you  are  very  doubtful 
whether  there  is  any  use  in  religion  at  all.  Mr. 
Urquhart,  I  am  afraid  that  you  may  quote  what 
you  have  heard  to-day  to  show  how  useless 
modern  religion  is.  Don't  you  think  that  you, 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  273 

if  you  had  spoken  the  truth,  might  have  made 
my  mother  see  it  too  ? " 

"You  do  me  injustice,  Miss  Standish,"  said 
Roger.  "  I  never  thought  of  comparing  the 
preacher's  account  of  hell  to  Juggernaut,  and 
I  trust  I  am  not  without  religion.  Shall  I  con- 
fess," he  went  on  more  fluently,  "  that  I  did  not 
expect  to  hear  you  defending  a  religion  which 
rests  on  a  kind  of  brute  terror  ?  I  know  that 
you  can  defend  it  only  in  the  abstract ;  you  do 
not  practise  religion  on  any  such  motives." 

"  If  I  were  to  tell  you  now,  Mr.  Urquhart,  that 
now  I  believe  you  meant  what  you  said  to  my 
mother,  I  should  do  wrong  to  you,  for  I  should 
not  speak  the  truth,  and  I  cannot  change  my 
belief;  but  as  you  tell  me  that  I  was  mistaken, 
I  can  beg  your  pardon  for  what  I  said  and  for 
what  I  think,  and  I  do  beg  it." 

The  two  walked  on  a  few  steps  in  silence ; 
then  Hildegarde  looked  up  and  said  brightly, 
though  Roger  thought  that  her  voice  trembled 
a  little:  "What  a  jolly  family  party  it  is  in 
front  of  that  house  !  See  how  happy  they  all 
are ! "  She  was  looking  at  a  house  in  front  of 
which  grandparents  and  parents  and  children 
were  gathered,  sitting  in  their  arm-chairs,  or 
talking  in  low  tones,  or  rolling  over  each  other 
i3 


2/4  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

on  the  grass,  enjoying  the  evening  after  the  heat 
of  the  day. 

"Miss  Standish,"  said  Roger,  in  a  voice  so 
changed  that  she  almost  started,  "it  is  I  who 
ought  to  beg  your  pardon.  I  did  not  speak  the 
truth  to  your  mother  on  the  balcony  any  more 
than  I  spoke  it  to  you  just  now.  I  am  ashamed 
of  myself.  Will  you  forgive  me  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  have  anything  to  for- 
give," said  Hildegarde,  gently.  "  I  thank  you." 

They  went  on  through  a  gate  in  the  stockade 
into  the  camp-ground,  and  in  a  few  steps  reached 
the  pavilion,  now  dark  and  deserted.  From  one 
or  two  of  the  tents  surrounding  it  came  the 
voices  of  men  speaking  at  prayer-meetings 
which  were  gathered  even  at  that  late  hour. 
Roger  and  Hildegarde  sat  down  upon  one  of 
the  benches  of  the  pavilion. 

"Miss  Standish,"  said  Roger,  "may  I  ask 
now  the  question  which  you  very  properly  did 
not  answer  when  I  asked  it  a  few  minutes  ago  ? 
Before  you  came  out  upon  the  balcony,  George 
was  trying  to  prove  that  all  our  good  actions 
must  have  their  motive  in  a  fear  of  the  conse- 
quences,—  very  much  such  a  doctrine  as  we 
heard  here  to-day.  Surely  you  do  not  agree  with 
him?" 


SIMPLY  A  LOTS-STORY.  275 

"  I  can  only  pity  a  man  who  preaches  as  that 
man  did  to-day,"  said  Hildegarde,  "for  certainly 
he  believed  everything  that  he  said.  A  man 
who  does  not  love  his  God  must  be  very  un- 
happy," she  said  softly ;  "  and  one  who  loves 
him  will  find  so  much  to  do  in  his  service  that 
there  will  be  no  time  left  to  think  about  hell  at 
all,  or  even  about  heaven  except  as  a  place  where 
we  can  serve  him  better  than  we  do  here." 

"If  there  be  a  God,"  said  Roger,  "  I  cannot 
believe  that  he  is  pleased  by  such  fearful  service 
as  that  minister  must  give  him." 

"  There  are  all  kinds  of  service,  but  I  cannot 
think  that  the  best  rests  even  upon  the  hope  of 
heaven.  We  must  serve  the  Lord  by  serving 
his  creatures,  and  I  know  he  will  not  grudge  the 
time  we  take  from  thoughts  of  heaven  and  hell  to 
spend  on  the  poor  or  in  making  our  homes  and 
friends  happy.  Mr.  Urquhart,  I  believe  that  a 
man,  who,  when  he  came  face  to  face  with  his 
Father,  could  say  with  truth,  '  Lord,  I  have  not 
worshipped  Thee  as  much  as  other  men  ;  all  my 
waking  hours  I  have  tried  to  serve  my  fellow- 
men,  and  my  labor  never  came  to  an  end,  for  the 
harvest  was  very  great  and  the  laborers  very 
few,  and,  save  for  a  moment  now  and  then,  and 
for  the  many  times  when  Thou  hast  come  to  me 


276  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

in  my  dreams,  I  have  hardly  thought  on  Thee  at 
all,'  —  if  there  were  a  man  who  could  say  that 
honestly  and  truthfully,  he  would  find  the  only 
change  in  heaven  to  be  that  he  could  rest  in 
the  love  of  his  God  while  he  worked  for  him." 

"  We  do  all  this  for  the  love  of  God,"  said 
Roger,  after  a  pause  ;  "  but  if  we  do  not  think  of 
heaven  and  hell,  why  do  we  love  him  ? "  he  asked, 
remembering  George's  question. 

"  We  cannot  help  loving  those  who  love  us," 
said  Hildegarde. 

They  left  the  pavilion  and  went  back  toward 
the  hotel  through  the  narrow  lanes  of  the  camp- 
ground, lighted  by  the  lanterns  that  each  cot- 
tager was  compelled  to  keep  burning  all  night, 
and  which  hung  in  front  of  his  house  above  the 
bucket  of  water  which  he  put  there  for  fear  of 
fire.  Just  as  they  reached  the  outer  world  they 
saw  George  and  Clara  walking  slowly,  and  appar- 
ently deep  in  earnest  conversation.  Roger  and 
Hildegarde  looked  at  each  other,  and  smiled. 

"  Evidently  you  are  not  a  natural  match-maker, 
like  most  women,  Miss  Standish,"  said  Roger,  after 
a  moment,  "  or  you  would  begin  to  talk  about  the 
chances  of  that  '  coming  to  something.'  " 

"  It  is  too  disappointing  a  trade,"  said  Hilde- 
garde, laughing.  "  One's  friends  are  shamefully 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  277 

obstinate,  and  very  inconsiderate  of  the  match- 
maker's feelings." 

"And  there  is  another  feminine  frailty  — 
may  I  call  it?  —  that  you  lack.  You  have  no 
curiosity  to  hear  what  they  are  saying." 

"  Mr.  Urquhart,  you  will  make  me  out  a  sort 
of  female  ogre." 

"  I  am  willing  to  believe  you  are  something 
quite  as  wonderful,"  said  Roger,  quickly. 

"  You  interrupted  me,  which  was  not  fair," 
said  Hildegarde.  "  I  have  plenty  of  curiosity, 
and  if  it  were  honorable,  I  should  like  very 
much  to  know  what  they  are  talking  about." 

"  The  weather,  probably,"  said  Roger.  "  It 
generally  is  the  weather  when  people  look  so 
very  sentimental." 

"  Come,  Mr.  Urquhart,  it  is  not  fair  to  watch 
them,"  said  Hildegarde. 

When  Roger  and  Hildegarde  came  into  the 
parlor  where  Mrs.  Standish  was  sitting  alone, 
she  looked  up  with  a  smile.  "Well,  have  you 
had  a  pleasant  walk  ? " 

"Very,"  said  Roger.  "  I  can  say  so  for  myself, 
and,  bold  as  it  may  seem,  I  think  I  may  say  so 
for  Miss  Standish  too ;  for,"  he  said  in  a  lower 
tone,  as  he  took  Hildegarde's  hand  to  say  good- 
night, "you  always  take  pleasure  in  doing  good." 


2/8  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 


XVI. 

THE  party  did  not  start  for  Rainbow  Head 
until  the  next  afternoon  ;  and  in  the  morn- 
ing Ann,  Clara,  and  Caroline  Anstey  were  sitting 
together  talking,  while  they  kept  their  hands 
busy  with  embroidery  or  crochet-work  or  some 
one  of  the  fifty  female  occupations  which  pre- 
vent Satan  from  finding  mischief  for  idle  hands 
to  do,  while  they  leave  him  ample  room  to  use  the 
idle  tongue  for  any  purpose  he  fancies.  Caroline 
was  looking  out  of  the  window. 

"  There  goes  Roger  Urquhart,"  she  said,  as 
Roger  came  into  sight  on  the  esplanade  below. 
"  How  pleased  he  looks,  —  as  if  the  whole  world 
was  before  him  where  to  choose  ! " 

"  I  should  like  to  be  as  happy  as  Roger  Urqu- 
hart," said  Ann ;  "  he  always  is  perfectly  satis- 
fied with  himself.  Now,  I  could  bear  to  be  dis- 
appointed in  other  people  sometimes,  and  even 
to  have  luck  run  against  me  for  a  day  or  two 
now  and  then,  if  I  were  always  perfectly  sure 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  279 

that  it  was  wholly  because  of  other  people's 
foolishness." 

"  Oh,  you  do  believe  that  you  are  wrong 
sometimes,  then  ?  "  said  Caroline,  turning  round 
and  speaking  rather  tartly. 

"  Of  course.   Why,  don't  you,  dear  ? "  said  Ann. 

"Yes,  I  do  ;  but  then  it  is  natural  that  I  should. 
I  thought  you  were  superior  to  such  things ; 
really  I  did." 

"Your  humility  is  one  of  the  most  charming 
traits  of  your  character,  Carrie  ;  it  always  makes 
you  so  generous  and  fair  when  you  speak  of 
other  people." 

"  You  are  hard  on  Mr.  Urquhart,"  said  Clara. 
"  Most  of  us  have  to  put  a  good  price  on  our- 
selves, so  as  to  leave  a  respectable  average  after 
such  stern  people  as  you  and  Carrie,"  she  said, 
laughing,  "  have  been  putting  us  down.  He 
does  not  parade  his  good  opinion  of  himself  very 
often  ;  and  it  shows  something  for  him,"  she 
added,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "  that  he  admires 
Hildegarde  so  much." 

"Why  shouldn't  he  admire  Hilda  as  well  as 
any  one  else  ?  "  said  Caroline.  "  The  way  you  and 
Ann  go  on  about  Hildegarde  Standish  is  almost 
too  much  for  me.  I  know  she  is  a  good  girl,  but 
so  are  plenty  of  other  people." 


280  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  You  must  have  found  that  out  very  lately," 
said  Ann  ;  "  but  never  mind,  so  long  as  you  have 
found  it  out  at  last."  Then,  turning  to  Clara,  she 
went  on :  "If  I  thought  he  truly  admired  Hilde- 
garde,  I  should  agree  with  you  ;  but  he  is  only 
trying  some  of  his  miserable  psychological  experi- 
ments. I  know  him  too  well  to  be  taken  in." 

"  You  know  enough,  if  you  know  the  meaning 
of  all  those  long  words,"  said  Caroline,  more 
good-naturedly. 

"  I  confess  I  should  like  very  much  to  see  him 
over  head  and  ears  in  love,"  said  Clara.  "  I  wish 
I  could  look  at  him  when  he  proposes,  and  see 
him  really  anxious  for  once  in  his  life." 

"  Oh,  he  would  n't  be  particularly  anxious," 
said  Ann.  "I  don't  think  he  would  believe  in 
the  possibility  of  any  one's  refusing  him  ;  prob- 
ably he  would  remember  to  say  that  he  was 
anxious,  because  he  knows  that  is  the  correct 
thing  to  say.  I  doubt  if  he  even  thinks  it  is  the 
correct  thing  to  feel." 

"  Nonsense,  Ann !  We  all  know  how  you  and 
Mr.  Urquhart  used  to  discuss  together  every 
kind  of  question,  and  you  will  make  us  think  he 
always  got  the  better  of  you,"  said  Clara,  with 
a  smile.  "  You  've  made  up  an  imaginary  Roger 
Urquhart  out  of  what  you  have  read  in  novels  ; 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  281 

and  now  you  stick  needles  into  the  image,  hoping 
that  the  real  man  will  '  pine  away  and  die,'  as  they 
do  in  fairy  stories.  Idiots  who  think  they  are 
universal  lady-killers  went  out  of  fashion  two  or 
three  generations  ago." 

"Oh,  I  did  n't  mean  that  Roger  Urquhart  was 
that  kind  of  a  fool !  "  said  Ann,  briskly.  "  I  am 
sure  I  beg  his  pardon  if  I  gave  you  that  idea. 
Certainly  he  does  not  go  round  imagining  that 
he  has  made  a  conquest  of  every  young  woman 
he  meets  ;  it 's  very  seldom  that  he  condescends 
to  think  about  young  women  at  all.  But  if  he 
were,  by  some  chance,  to  think  of  a  particular 
young  woman,  why,  it  would  be  all  the  greater 
honor  for  her,  and  of  course  she  could  n't  refuse 
the  honor,  you  know,  my  dear." 

"  She  is  very  fair  and  generous  when  she 
speaks  of  other  people,  is  n't  she?  "  said  Caroline. 
"  There  is  George  Holyoke."  she  went  on,  look- 
ing out  of  the  window  again.  "Now  that  there 
are  no  ladies  by,  he  dares  say  that  his  soul  is  his 
own  ;  but  a  more  shamefaced  man  when  he  is 
with  us,  I  do  not  wish  to  see." 

Ann  was  irritated  by  the  tone  in  which  Caro- 
line was  talking,  yet  she  was  pleased  at  having 
a  chance  to  speak  out  something  that  had  been 
on  her  mind  ;  so,  instead  of  flaring  up  in  defence 


282  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

of  her  cousin,  she  said,  more  quietly  than  she 
yet  had  done,  speaking  first  to  Caroline  and 
then  turning  toward  Clara  :  "  Yes,  George  is 
very  shy.  I  have  chaffed  him  about  it  often, 
and  told  him  how  little  justice  he  does  himself; 
but  it  is  n't  much  use.  Of  course  he  is  ready 
enough  with  me,  but  when  he  goes  into  society 
again,  he  is  as  shy  as  ever." 

"  Mr.  Holyoke  is  a  very  agreeable  man,"  said 
Clara,  inexpressively,  and  as  if  she  knew  that 
Ann  expected  her  to  say  something. 

"  Yes,  very  much  so,  if  he  feels  at  his  ease," 
said  Ann,  warmly  ;  "  but  if  he  does  not,  he  is 
silent  and  sometimes  almost  rude  for  want  of 
knowing  what  to  say.  He  has  almost  too  much 
respect  for  women  to  show  us  the  attention  that 
we  expect." 

Clara  looked  as  if  she  were  going  to  speak, 
and  speak  more  warmly  this  time,  when,  to 
Ann's  wrath  and  disgust,  Caroline  interrupted 
her  and  said  significantly,  "  Sometimes."  The 
remark  shut  Clara's  mouth,  and  left  Ann  wonder- 
ing if  it  were  best  to  go  on  ;  for  she  thought 
that  Caroline,  who  was  not  famed  for  delicate 
tact,  meant  to  rally  Clara  on  George's  attentions 
to  her.  Ann  had  not  long  for  her  wonderment, 
for  Caroline  added  in  an  instant :  "  Sometimes 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  283 

Mr.  Holyoke  can  pay  those  little  attentions." 
Clara  began  to  look  angry,  but  Caroline  kept 
on  :  "as  he  did,  for  instance,  to  our  village  belle 
in  Stapleton  a  few  weeks  ago." 

Clara's  face  flushed.  "  Nonsense  !"  said  Ann, 
in  a  tone  meant  to  express  contempt,  but  in 
which  anger  had  a  larger  part. 

"  It 's  all  very  well  to  say  '  Nonsense  ! '  but  per- 
haps you  don't  know  so  much  about  it  as  I  do." 

"  I  am  likely  to  know  something  about  the 
affairs  of  my  own  cousin,"  said  Ann,  trying  to 
recover  her  dignity. 

"  Yes,  if  any  one  else  had  told  me  that  you  did 
not  know  about  George  Holyoke's  escapade,  I 
should  not  have  believed  them  ;  but  since  you 
say  that  you  don't  know,  I  suppose  that  I  must  tell 
you.  There  is  a  very  pretty  girl,  named  Mary 
Rogers,  in  the  house  where  George  Holyoke 
boards  at  Stapleton,  and  he  paid  her  some  of 
those  little  attentions  you  spoke  about,  —  flirted 
outrageously  with  her,  in  fact." 

"  I  don't  believe  that  he  was  more  than  civil 
to  her,"  said  Ann,  feeling  that  the  ground  was 
slipping  from  under  her,  and  not  daring  to 
look  at  Clara's  face.  "  I  am  sure  I  hope  he  was 
that." 

"  Did  civility  require  that  he  should  sing  with 


284  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

her  in  the  church  choir  ?  "  said  Caroline,  sarcas- 
tically. 

"  So  that  is  all ! "  said  Ann,  trying  to  seem  re- 
lieved. "  The  head  and  forefront  of  my  cousin's 
offending  is  this,  —  he  sang  in  the  choir  once 
when  this  girl  was  there,  and  once  when  she 
was  n't  ;  that  is  what  you  call  outrageous  flirt- 
ing, is  it  ?  It 's  very  evident  that  no  one  has 
flirted  outrageously  with  you,  Carrie." 

"  You  must  keep  a  close  watch  on  the  '  young 
girl '  to  know  when  she  is  in  the  choir  and  when 
she  is  n't,"  retorted  Caroline.  "  I  thought  you 
knew  something  about  it ;  but  perhaps  you  did  n't 
know  that  he  escorted  her  to  a  picnic,  and  wan- 
dered about  with  her  in  the  shade  of  the  trees, 
and  into  nice  nooks  where  he  thought  no  one 
could  see  him." 

"  Caroline  Anstey,  are  you  not  ashamed  to  re- 
tail such  miserable  gossip  ? "  said  Ann,  now  ap- 
pearing really  angry.  "  No  one  is  safe  from  your 
tongue.  As  to  this  story,  I  don't  believe  a  word 
of  it,"  she  went  on,  gulping  down  the  protests 
of  her  conscience  with  some  difficulty. 

"  You  don't  believe  it ! "  said  Caroline,  in  as- 
sumed amazement.  "  Why,  I  supposed  it  was 
on  account  of  his  actions  that  you  came  down 
to  Stapleton  to  rescue  him  from  this  girl." 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  285 

"  I  came  to  Cornlands  on  Wednesday,  and  the 
picnic  at  Lake  Marby  was  on  Friday ;  really, 
Carrie,  if  you  are  going  to  slander  my  cousin, 
you  had  better  use  a  little  more  ingenuity  in 
piecing  your  stories  together :  it  will  improve 
their  effect." 

Caroline  was  furious,  and  ceased  to  weigh  her 
words.  "  You  have  heard  of  the  picnic  at  Lake 
Marby,  then  ?  I  thought  you  knew  something 
about  what  your  cousin  was  doing.  But  I  sup- 
pose it  did  not  need  that  to  bring  you  down 
here ;  you  had  heard  enough  before  that  to  feel 
you  were  needed.  You  must  have  enormous 
influence,"  she  went  on  volubly,  "  to  make  him 
give  up  the  girl  he  had  made  love  to.  And 
I  should  think  that  he  must  be  rather  mean- 
spirited  to  leave  her  quite  so  easily." 

The  sight  of  Caroline  in  a  passion  calmed 
Ann,  who  saw  clearly  that  her  best  chance  lay 
in  seeming  perfectly  cool. 

"  I  am  not  my  cousin's  keeper,"  she  said 
quietly  ;  "  and  while  I  hope  that  George  and  I 
are  very  good  friends,  I  do  not  pry  into  his 
affairs  or  those  of  other  people,  generally.  If 
George  had  been  smashed,  as  they  say,  on  this 
girl,"  she  went  on  with  a  forced  laugh,  "  I  think 
I  should  have  heard  about  it  ;  in  fact,  I  know  I 


286  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

should,  for  George  is  fond  of  me,  and  confides  in 
me  very  often,  and  I  give  you  my  word  that  he 
never  has  spoken  of  her  to  me." 

"The  world  does  you  great  injustice,  then," 
said  Caroline,  "  for  it  certainly  supposes  that  you 
tried  to  save  George  Holyoke  from  a  mesal- 
liance by  making  him  transfer  his  attentions  to 
some  one  else,"  she  added,  under  her  breath,  so 
that  it  was  doubtful  whether  Clara  heard  her 
or  not. 

Ann's  face  was  almost  white  with  passion,  but 
she  had  got  the  control  of  her  tongue.  "  Your 
world  is  a  small  one,  Carrie,  and  one  that  I  don't 
care  much  about;  it  may  say  what  it  pleases 
about  me,  so  long  as  I  know  it  does  not  speak 
the  truth.  But  come,  this  can  hardly  be  very  en- 
tertaining to  Clara ;  let  us  change  the  subject." 

"No,  I  don't  think  it  is  very  entertaining," 
said  Clara,  getting  up  and  going  to  the  window 
without  any  apparent  reason.  The  door  opened, 
and  Hildegarde  came  into  the  room. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter,  girls?"  she  said, 
stopping  in  the  doorway.  "  You  look  as  if  a 
bomb-shell  had  gone  off  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  and  blown  you  all  apart.  There  is  Ann, 
who  looks  as  if  she  had  been  laying  down  the 
law  to  Caroline  with  so  much  emphasis  that 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  287 

Carrie  thinks  she  has  been  too  severe,  while 
poor  Clara  is  feeling  lonely  over  there  in  the 
corner  because  no  one  will  talk  to  her.  Cheer 
up,  Clara  ;  it  was  n't  fair  to  leave  you  out  in  the 
cold." 

"  I  must  do  my  packing,"  said  Caroline,  and 
left  the  room  with  rather  an  ill  grace. 

"  You  are  a  little  too  late,  Hilda,"  said  Ann. 
"  I  wish  you  had  come  and  stopped  us  ten 
minutes  ago ;  you  would  have  saved  some 
hair-pulling.  Caroline  Anstey  is  —  well,  there, 
I  will  not  revile  the  absent ;  and,  as  I  can't  stay 
and  hold  my  tongue,  I  will  go.  One  does  n't 
like  to  hear  one's  friends  abused,  though." 

"  Please  don't  shut  the  door,  Ann,"  said  Hilde- 
garde,  laughing.  "  Leave  it  open  a  crack  ;  you 
have  made  it  very  warm  here.  Clara,  would  you 
prefer  that  I  should  go  ?  Speak,  if  you  would 
like  to  be  left  alone,"  she  added,  with  more  con- 
cern in  her  voice,  as  Clara  turned  toward  her. 

"  No,  dear ;  stay  here  and  sit  down,"  said 
Clara  listlessly,  coming  back  from  the  window. 
Clara  sat  down  herself,  and  after  a  moment's 
silence  looked  up  and  said  with  an  effort  to 
seem  cheerful :  "  You  said  the  other  day  that 
you  would  tell  me  about  the  Stapleton  people, 
—  the  natives,  I  mean.  You  know  that  I  have 


288  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

travelled  in  some  foreign  countries,  and  I  have 
tried  to  study  the  people  there.  Certainly  I 
ought  to  know  as  much  about  Americans,  and 
I  really  am  interested  in  it,"  she  added,  as  if 
the  last  remark  were  meant  to  assure  herself 
that  she  was  speaking  the  truth. 

"  I  will  tell  you  all  that  I  know,"  said  Hilde- 
garde,  promptly,  who  saw  that  something  was 
troubling  Clara,  and  hoped  to  distract  her  mind. 
"  What  is  it  especially  ? " 

"That  girl,"  said  Clara,  "that  we  saw  on  our 
long  ride,  and  who  gave  us  lunch,  —  was  she  a 
fair  specimen  of  the  women  here,  and  was  that 
old  man  a  fair  specimen  of  the  men  ? " 

"  They  belong  to  one  of  the  oldest  families 
in  this  part  of  the  country.  You  know  that 
they  are  Ann's  relatives,  and  they  are  very  good 
people  in  every  way.  I  never  saw  old  Captain 
Win  slow  before  ;  but  Mary  Rogers  I  believe  to 
be  one  of  the  best  girls  I  know." 

"  You  know  her,  then  ? "  said  Clara. 

"  I  wish  I  knew  her  better.  You  saw  what 
a  beautiful  face  she  has,  and  from  the  little  that 
I  have  seen  of  her  in  going  about  the  village,  I 
am  sure  that  she  is  good." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  very  enthusi- 
astic, Hilda." 


•      SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  289 

"  Why  should  n't  I  be  ?  Yes,  it  is  very  seldom 
that  I  feel  tempted  to  make  a  real  friend  of  one 
who  does  n't  belong  to  my  '  station  in  life,'  as 
they  call  it;  but  seriously,  when  I  see  a  girl 
going  about  her  duty  at  home,  or  teaching 
school,  as  Mary  Rogers  does,  when  I  never 
saw  her  do  anything  ungentle,  or  speak  any- 
thing but  good  English,  except  for  an  occa- 
sional 'guess,'  I  wish  she  belonged  to  my 
station,  that  is  all." 

"  She  is  rather  pretty,  certainly,"  said  Clara, 
coldly,  "  though  not  of  a  style  that  I  especially 
like;  but  I  did  not  see  any  remarkable  refine- 
ment about  her." 

"Perhaps  it  was  her  beauty  that  first  attracted 
me,"  said  Hildegarde,  gently,  to  avoid  a  discus- 
sion. "And  as  to  her  style,  why,  she  is  just  my 
height,  and  you  know  that  I  must  defend  the 
tall  and  stately  against  the  short  and  fascinating 
beauties  like  yourself,  Clara." 

"  Pooh,  she  is  n't  your  style  at  all,  Hilda !"  and 
Clara  was  silent  again  for  a  minute  or  two.  Then 
she  said,  "Read  to  me,  won't  you,  Hilda  dear? 
I  am  tired,  and  want  to  be  amused." 

During  this  time  Roger  and  George  were 
strolling  up  and  down  on  the  esplanade.  Harry 
Larkyns  had  allured  Peter  Anstey  into  a  boating 
19 


2QO  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

excursion  in  spite  of  Mrs.  Standish's  repeated 
assurances  that  they  would  not  come  back  in 
time  for  Rainbow  Head,  so  that  George  and 
Roger  were  left  alone.  Neither  of  them  said 
much,  and  when  they  did  speak,  it  was  not  much 
to  the  purpose  ;  but  they  both  were  thinking 
hard.  George  scarcely  could  restrain  himself 
to  Roger's  slow  pace.  Continually  he  checked 
himself  like  a  fiery  horse,  only  to  break  away 
again  in  an  instant.  His  face  was  excited,  as 
that  of  a  man  who  has  made  up  his  mind  to  a 
great  effort  on  which  his  happiness  is  staked, 
eager  for  the  conflict  to  end  his  suspense,  while 
alternate  waves  of  hope  and  fear  surge  through 
his  mind. 

Roger,  on  the  other  hand,  walked  slowly,  his 
head  bent,  as  if  in  a  brown  study.  Once  or  twice 
he  barely  escaped  throwing  down  some  man  or 
woman  passing  along  the  esplanade  ;  then,  after 
a  muttered  apology,  he  went  back  to  his  thoughts 
again.  He  had  studied  character  often  before,  — 
it  was  one  of  his  chief  amusements,  —  but  never 
before  had  he  studied  any  one  so  intently  as  he 
was  studying  a  girl  with  light  hair  and  a  high 
ruff,  who  sang  to  her  little  sick  sister  when  she 
thought  no  one  was  by,  and  whose  face  (it  was  her 
face  that  he  remembered  then,  and  not  how  she 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  291 

was  dressed)  had  looked  up  to  him  the  night  be- 
fore in  the  deserted  pavilion  of  the  camp-ground. 
There  was  a  certain  amount  of  personal  interest 
in  what  he  felt.  He  knew  it,  and  did  not  find  the 
sensation  unpleasant ;  and  the  chief  result  of  his 
reflections  was  a  determination,  to  which  it  did 
not  need  a  great  deal  of  reflection  to  bring  him, 
that  he  must  see  more  of  this  girl  and  know  her 
better,  as  a  type  of  character  he  had  not  yet  ob- 
tained for  his  collection.  But  time  was  passing, 
and  the  hour  approaching  when  they  were  to 
start  for  Rainbow  Head  ;  so  that  after  a  few  more 
turns  both  George  and  Roger  went  back  to  the 
hotel  to  get  ready  for  the  journey. 

Roger's  room  was  at  the  end  of  a  long  nar- 
row corridor,  on  both  sides  of  which  the  other 
members  of  the  party  had  their  abodes.  He 
sauntered  slowly  down  the  corridor  as  he  had 
sauntered  along  the  esplanade,  his  hands  clasped 
behind  him,  still  thinking.  The  door  of  one  of 
the  chambers  was  ajar,  and  as  he  came  near  it 
he  heard  Hildegarde's  voice  clear  and  distinct. 
She  was  speaking  with  animation.  Perhaps  he 
did  not  listen,  but  he  did  not  quicken  his  pace, 
and  he  heard  :  "  Yes,  my  dear,  that  is  the  true 
secret  of  success.  Never  seem  to  be  insincere, 
and  never  be  sincere.  It  hardly  needs  argument 


2Q2  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

to  show  that  you  never  must  be  sincere ;  but, 
above  all  things,  do  not  let  a  desire  to  be  thought 
deep  ever  make  you  give  up  your  reputation  for 
openness.  It  may  be  humiliating  to  be  told  that 
any  one  can  see  through  you,  but  it  is  the  sure 
road  to  success.  Oh,  how  many  times  I  have 
laughed  in  my  sleeve  at  the  folly  of  people  who 
were  laughing  at  my  simplicity.  Those  are  my 
sentiments,  my  dear." 

"  That  is  enough,"  Roger  heard  Clara  say,  in 
a  discontented  tone.  Then,  more  briskly,  and  as 
if  the  words  she  had  just  spoken  had  wrought 
too  great  an  effect :  "  No,  I  did  n't  mean  that, 
but  —  "  He  had  reached  his  own  door,  and  had 
heard  quite  enough  for  himself. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  293 


XVII. 

THE  various  members  of  the  party  were 
gathering  in  the  parlor,  waiting  to  start 
for  Rainbow  Head.  Harry  and  Peter  Anstey 
had  come  back  in  safety  from  their  boating,  so 
that  Mrs.  Standish's  mind  was  relieved  some- 
what, and  now  she  was  merely  moving  uneasily 
about  and  wondering  why  one  member  of  the 
party  after  another  could  not  be  ready  at  the 
appointed  time. 

Roger  came  up  to  Ann,  who  was  standing  by 
the  window.  As  Ann  turned  to  meet  him,  she 
thought  that  he  looked  nervous  and  excited, 
though  trying  to  cover  his  uneasiness  by  a  man- 
ner even  more  bantering  than  usual.  She  was 
not  in  very  good  humor,  but  she  had  had  time 
to  think,  and  to  feel  that  she  must  appear  as  if 
nothing  had  happened. 

"  Miss  Brattle,"  said  Roger,  "  I  am  come  in  a 
spirit,  I  trust  sufficiently  contrite,  to  acknowledge 
past  errors  and  to  crave  forgiveness." 


294  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  are  converted,"  said  Ann, 
trying  to  enter  into  his  raillery  ;  "  but  how  has  it 
happened.  Has  —  " 

"  I  believe  there  was  a  time,"  said  Roger,  in- 
terrupting her,  "  at  which  I  dared  to  say  that 
men  were  possessed  of  stronger  minds  than 
women ;  that  they  had  certain  points  of  superior- 
ity, and  were  nearly  as  clear-sighted.  Well,  I 
give  it  all  up ;  I  thought  that  I  myself  was  not 
altogether  a  fool,  but  I  am  mistaken." 

"What  next?"  said  Ann.  "Who  has  con- 
verted you  ? " 

"  Within  a  few  hours  I  have  found  out  that 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  the  truth  in  women  ; 
of  course  you  are  a  brilliant  exception,  Miss 
Brattle,  but  you  are  the  only  one." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Ann,  parenthetically. 

"  I  have  been  taken  in  so  completely  that  I 
despise  myself,  —  so  that  I  can  hardly  believe 
it  is  not  a  dream,  and  so  that  there  is  nothing 
between  me  and  drowning  but  a  very  strong 
desire  to  get  even  with  the  deceiver;  and  if  I 
live,  I  will  do  that,"  he  said  rather  bitterly. 

"  Really,  this  is  a  new  phase  of  your  character, 
Mr.  Urquhart,  and  a  very  interesting  one,"  said 
Ann.  "  The  haughty  man  at  last  humbled." 

"  When  I  thought,"  went  on  Roger,  "  that  at 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  295 

last  I  had  found  sincerity,  that  a  woman  might 
be  shallow  and  bigoted,  but  that  she  was  in 
earnest,  think  of  my  feelings  when  I  find  her  out, 
and  know  that  it  is  all  a  lie,"  he  said,  changing 
suddenly  from  a  tone  of  raillery  into  one  of  real 
disgust.  "  At  first  I  was  weak  enough  not  to 
believe  my  ears  ;  but,"  changing  to  his  former 
tone,  "  that  is  past,  as  they  say,  and  I  am  my- 
self again.  I  came  very  near  to  not  being  my- 
self for  a  short  time,  I  assure  you,"  he  added. 

"  Shall  I  confess,"  said  Ann,  mischievously, 
"  that  I  thought  the  non  ego  rather  an  improve- 
ment upon  the  ego  ?  " 

"  Thank  you.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  say  that 
I  am  not  quite  myself  just  yet.  I  am  dazed, 
and  not  ready  for  my  revenge  ;  but  I  shall  take 
it  shortly,  and  my  hand  has  lost  its  cunning  if 
it  is  not  a  pretty  severe  one." 

"  I  have  n't  the  least  idea  what  you  are  talking 
about ;  but  be  careful  that  you  don't  make  a 
mistake,  and  misjudge  women  again." 

"  No  ;  I  have  got  to  the  bottom  now,"  said 
Roger,  conclusively.  "  Here  they  are,"  he  added, 
as  all  the  rest  of  the  party,  except  Clara,  came 
into  the  room. 

There  were  two  wagons  drawn  up  at  the 
hotel  porch  to  receive  them.  Mrs.  Standish, 


296  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

Caroline,  Hildegarde,  and  Harry  Larkyns  took 
the  first ;  George,  Peter  Anstey,  and  Ann  the 
second.  R'oger  stood  outside,  doubtful,  and 
waiting  for  Clara,  who  did  not  appear. 

"  Where  can  Clara  be  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Standish, 
nervously.  "  Run,  Hilda  dear,  and  see  if  any- 
thing is  the  matter." 

Of  course  Roger  offered  his  services  ;  of 
course  they  were  refused,  and  Hildegarde  dis- 
appeared into  the  hotel.  She  met  Clara  in  the 
hall,  hurrying  on,  and  apologizing  for  her  tardi- 
ness. They  walked  through  the  long  hall,  at 
the  end  of  which  the  wagons  could  be  seen. 

"  Let  me  go  in  the  first,  Hilda,"  said  Clara, 
hurriedly  and  nervously. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Hildegarde,  somewhat  sur- 
prised. "  I  was  in  the  first  myself,  but  I  don't 
care." 

"  That 's  a  good  girl,"  said  Clara,  quickly. 
"  You  go  before,  and  get  into  the  last,  if  you 
had  as  lief,"  and  she  almost  pushed  Hildegarde 
through  the  door.  Accordingly,  Hildegarde 
went  out  quietly  toward  the  second  wagon,  was 
helped  in  by  Roger,  bowed  to  him  so  pleasantly, 
and  received  such  a  pleasant  smile  in  return, 
that  Ann  was  encouraged,  and  believed  that 
whatever  had  provoked  Roger,  his  friendship 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 


297 


with  Hildegarde  was  unbroken.  Clara  got  into 
the  first  wagon  without  looking  behind  her, 
and,  as  it  was  rather  the  larger,  was  followed  by 
Roger. 

The  drive  to  Rainbow  Head  was  a  long  and 
tedious  one,  sandy,  under  the  full  blaze  of  the 
sun,  and  with  nothing  to  see.  Then,  too,  the 
people  did  not  seem  well  placed.  In  the  first 
wagon  Roger  was  gloomy,  rousing  up  now  and 
then  to  talk  to  Mrs.  Standish  or  to  Caroline  in  a 
sharp,  cynical  way,  which  Mrs.  Standish  could 
not  understand,  and  which  Caroline  liked  only 
in  part,  as  she  had  an  uneasy  feeling  that  some 
of  his  satire  was  aimed  at  herself.  In  the  sec- 
ond wagon  Ann  had  some  thoughts  of  drawing 
out  the  simple  Peter  to  his  own  discomfiture ; 
but  the  effort  would  be  too  great,  and  she  gave 
it  up.  George  was  struggling  with  might  and 
main  to  listen  to  what  Hildegarde  was  saying  ; 
but,  in  spite  of  his  courtesy,  the  task  was  too  great, 
and  his  eyes  were  straying  uneasily  toward  the 
wagon  in  front  of  them,  where  Harry  and  Clara 
alone,  of  the  whole  party,  seemed  really  to  enjoy 
themselves.  She  smiled,  talked  to  him  confi- 
dentially, put  the  flowers  in  her  belt  which 
he  picked  by  the  roadside,  and  did  not  turn 
around  once  to  see  how  her  fellow-travellers 


298  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

came  on,  though  Harry,  who  tried  to  give  a  tone 
to  the  wilting  atmosphere  of  the  party,  jeered  at 
the  slowness  of  their  horse,  and  carried  on  a 
mock  argument  with  Ann  when  they  were  go- 
ing over  the  roughest  part  of  the  road.  At  last 
they  came  up  gently  rising  ground  to  a  high 
bluff  with  three  faces  to  the  sea.  Near  its  edge 
stood  a  light-house,  and  not  far  from  the  light- 
house a  row  of  tents,  with  a  larger  one  in  the 
middle,  and  an  American  flag  to  take  the  place 
of  the  ancestral  banner  of  the  Standishes.  The 
ground  was  covered  with  very  coarse  grass,  and 
sprinkled  with  occasional  low  bushes,  the  aspect 
of  the  place  utterly  desolate. 

"  And  this  is  Rainbow  Head,"  said  Ann  to 
Harry,  as  they  were  standing  together.  "  You 
give  it  a  romantic  name  to  make  up  for  the 
stern  reality,  I  suppose.  The  'Abomination  of 
Desolation '  would  be  more  appropriate.  I  hope 
you  have  laid  in  a  very  large  assortment  of  clever 
stories  and  witty  sayings,  and  an  inexhaustible 
supply  of  good  spirits.  We  shall  need  them  all." 

"  But  you  have  n't  seen  it  yet,"  said  Harry. 
"  Rainbow  Head  can  defend  itself.  Come  and 
look."  And  at  this  moment,  as  if  with  one  im- 
pulse, the  whole  party  walked  past  the  light- 
house to  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  the  ground  still 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  299 

rising  slightly,  so  that  not  till  they  had  come  to 
the  very  brink  did  they  seize  the  whole  stretch 
of  the  sea-view. 

More  than  a  hundred  feet  higher  than  the 
water  which  swept  around  them,  they  seemed 
almost  to  float  above  it.  To  their  right,  in  a 
great  channel  four  or  five  miles  broad  and  grad- 
ually widening,  the  water  stretched  away  as  far 
as  they  could  see ;  before  them  the  channel  had 
emptied  into  a  great  gulf,  whose  distant  shores 
made  a  low  gray  line  on  the  horizon,  behind 
which  the  sun  was  setting ;  to  their  left  was  the 
Atlantic  ;  at  their  feet,  breaking  away  in  preci- 
pices, gullied  out  by  the  summer  rains  and  win- 
ter snows,  and  cut  into  by  the  rising  tide,  were 
piled  the  masses  of  color  that  made  the  cliffs  of 
Rainbow  Head.  Red  and  yellow  and  pink  and 
white  and  black,  in  varying  shades,  sometimes 
one  above  the  other,  sometimes  side  by  side,  but 
never  separated  by  a  straight  line,  these  clay 
crags  were  piled  from  the  dripping  beach  up  to 
the  coarse  grass  on  which  they  stood,  unmixed 
with  sand  or  the  meaner  kinds  of  common  clay. 
•  "  Don't  you  think  that  Rainbow  Head  can 
defend  itself  ? "  said  Harry,  after  a  short  pause. 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  said  Ann,  not  turning  her 
head  to  answer. 


300  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

In  a  few  moments  they  all  went  back  to  sup- 
per in  the  large  tent ;  and  when  supper  was 
over  it  was  evening  and  the  moon  had  risen. 
George  tried  to  put  himself  next  to  Clara  ;  but 
she  eluded  him,  and  on  his  proposing  a  walk, 
she  said  that  she  was  tired. 

"  It  was  rather  a  long  drive  here,"  said 
George. 

"  Was  it  ? "  said  Clara,  languidly.  "  I  did  not 
notice  it."  Then,  more  briskly  :  "  Mr.  Larkyns 
was  very  pleasant,  and  the  road  did  not  seem 
long.  Did  you  find  it  a  bore?" 

"  It  would  be  impossible  to  be  bored  while 
talking  with  Miss  Standish,"  said  George,  who 
would  not  let  his  love  for  Clara  make  him  rude ; 
"  but  it  seemed  to  me  rather  a  long  journey ; 
and  I  am  sorry  that  it  has  tired  you,"  he  added, 
sympathetically. 

"Oh,  it's  nothing,"  said  Clara,  shortly.  Her 
manner  was  so  cold  that  George  was  discour- 
aged, and  tried  to  recollect  in  what  he  had 
offended. 

A  moment  after,  Harry  came  in,  speaking  with 
enthusiasm  :  "  The  moonlight  view  is  superb. 
What  is  the  advantage  of  camping  out,  if  you 
do  not  see  everything  ?  Why,  the  object  of 
living  in  a  tent  is  that  it  is  so  disagreeable  to 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  301 

be  in  the  tent  that  you  have  to  live  in  the  open 
air.  First-class  Irish  bull,  that,"  he  added,  in  an 
audible  aside.  "Miss  Ellison,  my  persuasions 
would  be  in  vain,  I  know ;  but  cannot  the  charms 
of  Rainbow  Head  by  moonlight  draw  you  out  of 
doors,  —  or  whatever  stands  for  doors  in  a  tent  ? 
'  There  is  something  about  the  moon's  ray,'  you 
know." 

"  Really  you  are  very  persuasive,  Mr.  Larkyns," 
said  Clara,  looking  up  with  a  smile.  "  Is  it  very 
fine?" 

"  Undoubtedly,"  said  Harry. 

"  Then  I  think  I  will  go,"  said  Clara,  energeti- 
cally, for  her  fatigue  seemed  quite  gone ;  and 
without  a  look  at  George,  she  went  out  of  the 
tent. 

All  hope  of  a  conversation  with  her  was  over 
for  that  night,  and  George  was  left  to  digest  his 
impatience  as  best  he  could  until  the  next  morn- 
ing, which  dawned  bright  and  clear.  His  ner- 
vousness would  not  let  him  sleep  late,  and  as 
he  came  out  of  the  tent,  where  he  had  left  Roger 
slumbering  peacefully,  he  saw  the  figure  of  a 
woman  outlined  against  the  sky,  standing  on  the 
edge  of  the  cliff.  It  was  Clara ;  and  with  a 
beating  heart  he  walked  toward  her,  unnoticed, 
for  her  back  was  turned  to  him.  As  he  came 


302  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY 

near,  he  spoke,  and  bade  her  good-morning. 
She  turned  with  surprise  that  did  not  seem 
altogether  pleasant,  and  George  felt  himself 
flushing,  and  was  ashamed  of  the  awkwardness 
that  took  hold  of  him. 

"  What  a  beautiful  view !  "  he  said,  looking  out 
on  the  sea,  which  seemed  to  have  gained  fresh- 
ness from  the  morning,  as  the  land  does.  It 
was  beautiful,  but  he  only  supposed  so  ;  his  eyes 
did  not  take  it  in. 

"  Yes,"  said  Clara,  turning  from  him  again  ; 
"very  beautiful." 

"  Won't  you  come  down  the  cliffs  and  look  at 
it  from  below  ?  They  say  that  is  the  best  view 
—  and  it  will  give  us  an  appetite  for  breakfast," 
he  added,  feeling  that  something  must  be  said, 
though  he  thought  that  he  had  hit  upon  hardly 
the  right  thing,  and  knew  that,  so  far  as  he  was 
concerned,  the  remark  was  not  true. 

"  No,  thank  you,  I  think  not,"  said  Clara, 
coldly. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  and  then 
George,  driven  to  desperation,  said  quickly : 
"  W7hat  have  I  done  to  offend  you,  Miss  Elli- 
son ?  I  cannot  imagine  ;  and  if  you  will  tell  me 
what  mistake  I  have  made,  I  will  try  to  correct 
it.  I  would  not  have  made  it  for  the  world," 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  303 

he  added,  with  an  earnestness  that  was  too  deep 
for  passion. 

"  I  don't  understand  what  you  mean,  Mr. 
Holyoke,"  said  Clara,  very  quietly,  still  looking 
out  to  sea. 

"  But  you  must  know  what  I  mean,"  persisted 
George.  "  I  have  offended  you  in  some  way, 
and  I  wish  I  knew  what  it  is  that  I  have 
done." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Mr.  Holyoke.  I  am  not 
offended,"  said  Clara  in  the  same  tone,  and  turn- 
ing round  part  way  toward  him.  "  It  is  your 
imagination,"  she  added  in  a  livelier  manner. 

"  I  wish  it  were,"  said  George,  feeling  that  the 
ground  was  slipping  away  from  beneath  him, 
knowing  that  he  was  not  mistaken,  but  hardly 
daring  to  press  the  matter  further. 

"  There  is  nothing  else,"  said  Clara,  shortly, 
falling  into  the  same  dry  tone  she  had  used  at  first. 
"I  think  breakfast  must  be  ready  by  this  time." 
And  she  walked  toward  the  camp,  accompanied  by 
George,  who  felt  that  it  was  all  over,  that  he  had 
lost  the  day  through  an  unfair  stratagem,  without 
having  had  a  chance  to  strike  for  himself. 

All  through  breakfast  he  was  moody  and 
silent,  thinking  with  might  and  main.  Had  he 
offended  Clara,  or  had  he  shown  her  such  atten- 


304  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

tions  that  she  was  driven  to  these  harsh  meas- 
ures, not  because  she  did  not  like  him  as  a  friend, 
but  because  she  could  not  return  the  love  which 
she  must  see  that  he  felt  ?  If  it  were  the  first, 
he  might  remove  the  offence  and  win  back  his 
old  place  ;  if  it  were  the  last,  he  was  hopeless, 
and  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do  but  to  put 
a  brave  face  on  it  until  he  reached  Stapleton 
again,  and  then  give  up  the  sight  of  Clara  for- 
ever. But  which  was  it  ?  He  did  not  pretend 
that  he  could  read  a  woman's  character,  and  he 
groped  in  vain  for  an  explanation.  The  change 
had  been  very  sudden  ;  between  night  and  morn- 
ing the  harm  had  been  done.  He  remembered 
how  kindly  she  had  left  him  that  evening,  and, 
though  he  was  awkward  and  knew  it,  he  could 
not  imagine  what  he  had  done  before  the  morn- 
ing so  completely  to  have  lost  the  friendship  she 
had  shown  for  him  during  the  past  fortnight. 
That  night,  as  they  walked  through  the  camp- 
ground, he  had  not  told  her  what  was  in  his 
heart,  but  he  had  spoken  so  that  he  had  thought 
she  must  see  what  was  there  ;  and,  as  he  went  to 
bed  that  night,  he  had  rejoiced  that  she  had  not 
rebuffed  him,  but  had  led  him  on  until  he  was 
no  longer  his  old  self.  He  forgot  all  his  shyness 
and  false  shame,  and  showed  himself  as  he  felt 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  305 

that  he  ought  to  be,  and  as  he  hoped  that  he 
might  be  if  she  would  take  his  love  for  her  own 
and  keep  it,  giving  back  something  in  exchange. 
Now  he  thought  that  on  that  night  she  had 
not  seen  where  his  hopes  were  leading  him,  but 
that  before  the  morning  she  had  realized  where 
he  stood,  and  knowing  that  these  hopes  were 
vain,  had  determined  never  to  give  him  en- 
couragement again.  Still,  it  might  be  that  she 
was  only  angry  with  him  for  the  moment,  and 
that,  if  he  should  put  to  her  the  momentous 
question,  should  plead  his  cause  with  the  energy 
that  his  cause  would  give  him,  her  momentary 
anger  might  vanish  and  he  might  succeed. 
Breakfast  was  over.  She  had  gone  away  with 
Harry  Larkyns ;  and  George,  the  suspense  become 
too  great,  turned  to  Ann,  whom  he  respected  very 
much,  thinking  she  must  have  noticed  Clara's 
strange  behavior,  and  hoping  that  she  could  ex- 
plain it.  If  there  had  been  no  sudden  change, 
he  would  have  kept  his  own  counsel  until  he 
had  won,  or,  if  he  had  lost,  forever  ;  but  now  he 
hoped  that  a  woman's  wit  might  explain  a  wo- 
man's vagaries.  They  were  walking  together  at 
a  little  distance  from  the  camp,  and  he  told  her 
the  whole  story ;  for,  if  he  gave  his  confidence 
at  all,  he  gave  it  wholly.  Ann  looked  puzzled. 


306  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"You  say  that  she  was  perfectly  friendly 
night  before  last." 

"  Yes,"  said  George ;  "  I  had  begun  to  hope. 
Before  that  I  did  not  dare  to,  for  she  is  so  much 
better  than  I  am  that  I  could  not  believe  she 
cared  for  me." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Ann,  roughly.  "You  are 
better  than  she  is.  You  must  excuse  a  cousin's 
partiality,"  she  said,  more  gently. 

"  You  must  have  seen  how  she  has  treated 
me  since  yesterday  morning."  Then,  speaking 
slowly,  and  as  if  he  meant  to  put  the  worst  before 
himself:  "I  am  afraid  that  she  is  trying  to  show 
that  there  is  no  hope  for  me.  You  are  my  dear 
cousin,"  he  went  on,  looking  affectionately  at 
Ann,  "who  has  often  given  me  advice,  —  some- 
times when  I  did  not  want  it,"  he  said,  trying  to 
smile,  —  "  and  I  have  come  to  see  if  you  can 
give  me  any  hope.  It  is  not  fair  to  make  her 
say  'no'  directly,  if  she  has  implied  it." 

Ann  made  no  answer,  but  sat  down  on  the 
ground,  George  standing  beside  her.  There 
was  a  long  pause;  then  she  looked  up. 

"You  had  better  know  the  whole,"  said  she. 
"  Clara  is  not  indifferent  to  you,  I  am  sure  of 
that ;  but  she  is  jealous,  and  offended  with  you 
and  me.  Yesterday  morning  that  nasty,  spiteful 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  307 

Caroline  Anstey  dared  to  say  that  you  had  flirted 
with  that  Stapleton  girl,  Mary  Rogers  ;  and  what 
was  as  bad,  or  worse,  she  actually  insinuated 
that  I  had  persuaded  you  to  give  her  up,  and 
had  induced  you  to  make  love  to  Clara  Ellison 
instead.  Of  course,  I  denied  the  whole  ;  but 
some  one  had  been  giving  Caroline  certain  par- 
ticulars about  the  picnic  at  Lake  Marby  "  (then, 
suddenly  recollecting  that  George  did  not  know 
of  her  own  presence  on  that  eventful  afternoon), 
"or  some  such  place,  where  she  said  that  you 
wandered  off  through  the  woods  with  this  girl." 

When  Ann  began  to  speak,  George's  face 
showed  simple  amazement ;  but  when  she  spoke 
of  Mary  Rogers,  he  looked  confused. 

"  It  is  true,"  he  said  slowly ;  "  and  yet  I  love 
Miss  Ellison  with  all  my  heart.  What  am  I 
to  do  ?  " 

"You  must  go  to  Clara,"  said  Ann,  "and  make 
her  give  her  reasons.  If  she  refuses  you  on  other 
grounds,  you  will  know  it ;  but  I  do  not  believe 
she  will.  When  she  mentions  this  affair,  you 
ought  to  show  surprise  —  but  that  is  no  great 
matter,  your  own  heart  will  tell  you  how  to  pro- 
test that  you  never  cared  for  Miss  Rogers;  that, 
on  the  whole,  you  particularly  dislike  her.-  And 
I  am  inclined  to  advise  you  to  make  a  clean 


308  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

breast  of  it  by  telling  Clara  exactly  what  hap- 
pened on  that  miserable  picnic  —  at  least,  if  it  is 
possible,"  she  said,  laughing  nervously. 

"  I  cannot  tell  her  that  I  dislike  Miss  Rogers," 
said  George,  slowly,  "for  I  respect  Miss  Rogers 
very  much,  nor  can  I  tell  her  what  happened  on 
that  afternoon  at  Lake  Marby,  for  that  is  not 
mine  to  tell  ;  but  I  love  Clara  Ellison,  and  I 
think  that  I  can  show  it  to  her." 

"Go,  then,"  said  Ann;  "and  the  sooner  the 
better." 

George  paused.  "  Had  I  better  speak  now  ? " 
he  said  doubtfully.  "  Ann,  I  do  not  think  that 
I  am  a  conceited  man,  and  I  would  not  have  her 
marry  me  for  what  I  am  not ;  but  I  had  hoped 
that  as  she  came  to  know  me  better  she  might 
find  more  in  me  than  she  saw  at  first.  Perhaps 
I  was  wrong,  but  —  " 

Ann  hesitated  an  instant.  "  No,  you  must 
go  on  now,"  she  said.  "  You  must  get  this  idea 
of  Mary  Rogers  out  of  her  head  ;  you  never  can 
do  anything  until  that  is  gone.  If  you  can  make 
Clara  see  that  she  is  mistaken  there,  even  if  she 
refuses  you  from  some  other  reason,  you  may 
win  yet." 

"  Thank  you,  Ann,"  said  George,  warmly,  after 
a  moment's  silence.  "  You  always  do  your  best 


^         SIMPLY  A    LOVE-STORY.  309 

to  help  your  poor  cousin.  I  will  go  and  learn 
what  is  to  become  of  me." 

"Go,  'conquering  and  to  conquer,'"  said  Ann, 
mock-heroically.  "  She  will  try  to  avoid  you, 
but  you  can  find  her  alone  before  long." 

And  Clara  Ellison  did  avoid  him.  Hour  after 
hour  on  that  long  morning,  which  seemed  to 
George  the  longest  he  ever  had  gone  through, 
she  was  continually  with  Harry  Larkyns  or 
Mrs.  Standish  or  Caroline,  or  even  with  Roger, 
whose  attendance  on  Hildegarde  was  not  quite 
so  constant,  though  it  was  as  deferential  as  ever. 
But  at  last,  as  they  were  climbing  about  on  the 
cliffs,  cutting  off  small  pieces  of  the  brighter-col- 
ored clays  as  souvenirs  of  the  place,  she  became 
separated  from  the  rest  of  the  party,  and  George, 
coming  suddenly  up  to  her,  stood  before  her  so 
as  to  cut  off  all  chance  of  retreat.  There  was 
something  in  his  face  as  he  stood  there  which 
made  Clara  try  to  start  the  conversation  upon 
indifferent  subjects  ;  and  so  she  spoke  to  George 
cheerfully,  and  with  as  much  of  her  old  friendly 
manner  as  she  could  assume  at  a  moment's 
notice. 

"  See  what  a  splendid  specimen,"  she  said, 
holding  up  a  piece  of  clear  red  clay.  "  Bah !  it 
soils  my  gloves,  though,"  she  went  on,  with  an 


310  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

impatient  gesture,  trying  to  shake  off  two  or 
three  small  bits  of  clay  that  stuck  to  her 
ringers. 

"Miss  Ellison,"  said  George,  —  now  that  his 
mouth  was  once  opened,  his  words  pouring  out 
like  a  spring  flood,  —  "I  cannot  wait  any  longer  ; 
I  must  speak.  I  love  you,  and  I  think  you  must 
know  it.  You  are  too  good  for  me,  too  good  for 
any  man  ;  but  if  you  would,  take  the  love  which, 
unworthy  as  it  is  of  you,  is  all  that  I  can  give, 
I  believe — I  know  —  that  it  would  make  of  me 
a  better  man  than  you  can  believe,  and  one  who 
might  in  time  grow  to  deserve  some  of  that  love 
which  I  beg  from  you." 

If  he  had  stopped  at  the  end  of  the  first  sen- 
tence it  would  have  been  better  for  him  ;  as 
it  was,  he  had  given  Clara  time  to  frame  an 
answer. 

"  Mr.  Holyoke,"  she  said,  her  voice  growing 
colder  and  steadier  as  she  went  on,  "  I  do  not 
understand  you ;  this  is  very  sudden,  —  I  am 
very  sorry  that  I  have  given  you  any  encourage- 
ment to  hope." 

"  Did  you  think,  then,  that  I  needed  any  en- 
couragement to  love  you  ?  Perhaps  it  ought  to 
have  stopped  there;  but  we  are  weak,  and  we 
must  hope." 


SIMPL Y  A  LO VE-STOR Y.  311 

Clara  looked  almost  touched.  "  It  cannot  be, 
Mr.  Holyoke,"  she  said,  more  gently.  "  I  am 
sorry  that  we  ever  met." 

"  And  why  may  it  not  be  ? "  said  George, 
whose  courage  was  returning.  "  If  you  knew 
how  I  love  you,  how  happy  I  would  try  to 
make  you,  how  happy  I  should  be  with  you, 
how  desolate  my  whole  life  must  be  without 
you  ! " 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  refuse  you,"  said  Clara, 
quickly  regaining  command  of  her  voice,  "  but 
I  feel  that  you  will  not  suffer  long.  In  time 
some  one  else  —  " 

"  Do  not  insult  me,"  said  George,  meekly. 
"  Even  you  must  know  perfectly  well  how  im- 
possible that  is.  You  did  me  no  wrong  in 
making  me  love  you,  for  you  could  not  help  it ; 
but  you  do  me  wrong  which  you  can  help  in 
thinking  me  so  fickle." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  natural  to  feel  so  at  the 
moment,"  said  Clara,  still  very  calmly ;  "  but 
time,  even  a  short  time,  makes  a  great  deal  of 
difference.  A  great  many  people  have  thought 
as  you  do,  and  have  changed  their  minds. 
Perhaps  you  have  yourself." 

"  Miss  Ellison,"  said  George,  now  losing  his 
self-control,  "  it  is  not  right  to  mock  me.  You 


312  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

cannot  love  me,  and  for  that  I  cannot  blame 
you  ;  but  you  might  believe  that  the  man  whose 
heart  is  breaking  for  you  is  at  least  in  love." 

"But  if  that  man's  heart  was  breaking  for 
some  one  else  a  fortnight  before ! "  cried  Clara, 
her  voice  and  manner  changing  so  suddenly 
that  George  stepped  back  almost  frightened. 
"  How  can  I  believe  in  the  truth  of  a  man 
whose  heart  breaks  so  often  and  is  mended  so 
easily?" 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  George,  dazed  by 
the  sudden  outburst. 

"  A  fortnight  ago,"  went  on  Clara,  "  your 
heart  was  breaking  for  another  woman,  —  at 
least,  I  suppose  you  told  her  so ;  I  don't  know 
whether  she  was  fool  enough  to  believe  you. 
At  any  rate,  you  have  dropped  her,  —  deserted 
her  against  her  will,  for  aught  I  know  or  care  ; 
and  now  you  dare  talk  of  broken  hearts  to  me ! 
Which  is  the  most  romantic  place  to  carry  on  a 
flirtation  with  a  pretty  girl,  —  for  I  have  been 
told  that  I  am  pretty,  —  Lake  Marby,  or  Rain- 
bow Head  ?  And  how  much  constancy  is  a  man 
likely  to  have,  whose  cousin  can  frighten  him 
out  of  loving  one  woman  into  loving  another  in 
the  space  of  a  fortnight  ? " 

"  Miss   Ellison,"  said  George,  "  I  never  flirted 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  313 

with  any  one  at  Lake  Marby.  It  is  you  that  I 
love,  and  it  is  I  that  love  you." 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  that  girl 
was  an  ordinary  acquaintance  of  yours  ?  Young 
men  of  your  station  do  not  go  to  picnics  with 
such  girls,  except  to  flirt  ;  and  if  you  were  not 
flirting,  what  were  you  doing  there  ?  Was  it 
entirely  about  whaling  that  you  talked  to  Miss 
Rogers,  or  was  it  about  the  manufacture  of 
saleratus  bread  ? " 

"  Miss  Rogers  is  my  friend,"  said  George,  sim- 
ply. "  She  is  not,  and  never  can  be,  anything 
more.  I  cannot  tell  you  what  we  talked  about 
on  that  afternoon,  because  it  is  not  my  secret ; 
if  it  were,  you  should  know  it,  and  I  think  I  may 
promise  that  you  shall  know  it  some  day.  I  can 
only  say  that  I  love  you." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  you  can  only  say  it,"  Clara 
burst  out  again.  "It  is  friendship  that  you  call 
it,  is  it  ?  It 's  a  good  word  with  a  bad  meaning. 
And  do  you  seriously  expect  me  to  take  what 
you  have  just  said  as  an  explanation  of  what 
happened  at  that  picnic  ?  " 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  George,  slowly.  "  I 
love  you  ;  and  from  what  I  know  of  the  thing 
love  is,  I  know  that  you  have  not  for  me  even 
as  much  love  as  I  hoped  for.  More  than  that, 


314  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

you  must  dislike  and  despise  me  if  you  can 
think  of  me  the  things  you  have  said.  They  are 
not  true ;  but  I  must  be  very  much  to  blame  if 
they  can  even  seem  true." 

"  You  have  no  right  to  tell  me  that  I  do  not 
speak  the  truth.  How  dare  you  ! "  blazed  out 
Clara.  "  Let  me  go." 

"  Hear  me  once  more :  I  love  you  ;  and  if  I 
have  spoken  harshly,  I  am  very  sorry.  I  beg 
your  pardon,"  said  George,  humbly. 

"  You  do  not  love  me  ;  you  love  that  other 
woman,  if  you  love  any  one.  But  you  were  so 
mean-spirited  that  your  cousin  made  you  give 
her  up." 

"  I  have  no  hope  now,"  said  George,  stepping 
out  of  her  path.  "  You  do  not  love  me." 

She  passed  him  quickly,  and  then  turned 
round  to  look  back  on  him. 

"  Do  you  dare  to  say,"  she  said,  more  slowly, 
"  that  you  never  loved  her  ?  I  do  not  say  that  I 
will  believe  you  if  you  say  yes  ;  but  can  you  say 
it  upon  your  honor  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  for  Miss  Mary  Rogers  one  par- 
ticle of  love  beyond  that  which  I  may  have  as  a 
friend  for  any  woman." 

"  I  did  not  suppose  that  you  would  confess 
to  loving  her  now,"  said  Clara,  almost  sneer- 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  315 

ingly ;  "  but  can  you  say  that  you  never  loved 
her?" 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  "  I  say  upon 
my  honor  that  I  never  loved  her  as  I  love  you 
now  ;  no,  nor  —  " 

Clara  broke  in  on  him  :  "  I  don't  care  to  hear 
any  more.  You  loved  her  ten  times  as-  much,  I 
suppose  !  "  And,  with  something  that  sounded 
like  a  sob,  she  dashed  down  upon  the  beach, 
where  Caroline  and  Roger  were  standing. 


3  1 6  SIMPL  Y  A  LO  VE-STOR  Y. 


XVIII. 

ONE  day  was  like  another  at  Wilson's  Neck. 
It  was  easier  for  Mary,  easier  ten  times 
over,  to  write  her  letter  to  Herman  than  it  was 
to  wait.  The  letter  once  written,  she  knew 
that  she  had  tried  to  say  what  was  right ;  and 
when  that  was  done,  her  temper  did  not  distress 
her  by  framing  a  hundred  better  ways  of  saying 
the  same  thing.  But  she  must  wait.  As  she 
sat  with  her  grandfather  in  the  evening,  when 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  think,  —  for  the 
old  man  was  too  weak  to  talk  much,  —  a  strange 
sense  of  contrast  often  came  into  her  mind.  Fifty 
years  separated  their  thoughts.  She  was  his 
granddaughter,  but  he  hardly  thought  of  that. 
She  cared  for  the  wants  of  his  body ;  he  knew 
that  they  were  cared  for,  and  that  was  all. 
From  morning  to  night  she  did  not  enter  his' 
mind  except  for  the  likeness  he  saw  in  her  to 
his  dead  sister  ;  so  that  living  she  lived  to  him, 
because  she  shared  her  existence  with  a  girl 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 


317 


dead  before  her  own  mother  was  born  ;  and  as 
for  Herman,  Mary  knew  that  her  story  would 
not  ripple  the  calm  of  the  old  man's  life,  any 
more  than  you  can  break  up  the  smooth  surface 
of  a  lake  on  an  evening  in  winter  when  the 
growing  cold  is  slowly  changing  living  water 
into  dead  ice.  And  his  sorrows  could  not  be 
more  to  her.  Many  a  time  she  thought  as  she 
sat  there  how  a  time  would  come  when  her  love 
for  Herman  must  seem  to  those  who  should 
stand  about  her  as  unreal  as  her  grandfather's 
love  for  a  bright-eyed  girl  now  seemed  to  her, 
and  then,  soon  after,  on  this  earth  her  love  for 
him  would  be  gone  forever. 

Once  or  twice  the  restless  fit  came  upon  her, 
and  in  the  twilight  she  paced  up  and  down  on 
the  top  of  the  house.  But  she  thought  that  this 
was  wrong,  and  sternly  checked  herself  long 
before  bodily  exhaustion  had  begun  to  relieve 
her.  For  several  days  there  was  nothing  to 
expect,  nothing  to  hope  for,  though  over  and 
over  again  in  her  mind  she  had  seen  Herman 
open  and  read  that  letter  far  more  clearly  than 
she  saw  the  spinet  on  which  she  was  playing  at 
her  grandfather's  bidding.  Then  came  a  day  or 
two  when  she  could  not  hope,  —  she  could  only 
imagine  it  possible  that  an  answer  might  come. 


31 8  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

Then  came  the  time  of  hope ;  but  he  would 
write  to  Stapleton,  and  no  one  could  tell  how 
long  a  letter  might  be  in  reaching  Wilson's 
Neck.  Captain  Rogers  most  likely  would  keep 
it  in  his  pocket  until  chance  brought  him  to  the 
old  house  again.  And  the  letter  might  need 
an  answer ;  everything  might  depend  upon  the 
answer  ;  if  he  were  repentant,  as  he  ought  to  be, 
he  would  need  words  from  her  far  different  from 
those  she  had  used  before.  She  could  pour  out 
her  whole  heart  to  him  in  one  joyous  burst,  and 
be  happy  as  she  never  had  been  happy  before. 
And  he  might  wait  in  Savannah  just  long  enough 
to  receive  an  immediate  answer.  And  as  the 
sun  went  down  in  the  cloudless  west  to  rise 
again  in  the  cloudless  east  day  after  day,  she 
felt  that  she  was  growing  older  with  each  sun, 
and  that  she  was  changing  from  a  girl  into  a 
woman. 

Sometimes  her  imagination  would  raise  up 
before  her  the  scene  when  she  should  meet 
Herman,  and,  becoming  his  own,  should  have 
some  one  upon  whom  she  could  lean  for  the  rest 
of  her  life.  Then  she  would  tear  the  picture 
to  pieces  for  fear  that  it  was  a  false  prophecy, 
and  for  fear  that  the  fancied  bliss  would  make 
the  disappointment  harder  to  bear.  But  as  the 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  319 

days  went  by,  fancies  of  all  sorts  took  hold  of 
her  more  and  more  strongly,  and  more  and  more 
vividly  she  saw  pictures  of  her  future  and  of 
Herman's,  —  sometimes  cheering,  but  often  sad, 
so  that  her  strong  will  could  hardly  control  her 
restlessness.  At  last,  one  day,  as  she  came  in 
at  the  back  door  of  the  house,  she  heard  her 
father's  voice,  and  rushed  into  the  room  where 
he  and  her  grandfather  were  sitting. 

"  Why,  Mary,  what 's  the  matter  ? "  said  Cap- 
tain Rogers's  great  gruff  voice.  "  What  are  you 
in  such  a  hurry  for  ? " 

She  could  hardly  speak  ;  her  first  impulse  was 
to  ask  him  for  the  letter.  Then  she  checked  her- 
self with  a  great  effort  and  tried  to  say  calmly, 
"  How  is  mother  ?  " 

"  She 's  pretty  middlin',  but  you  don't  look 
well,  Mary;  what 's  the  matter  with  you?" 

"  I  am  very  well,"  she  said,  trying  to  keep  her 
lips  from  framing  the  question  that  filled  her 
heart. 

"  I  'm  afraid  not,"  said  the  Captain,  doubtfully; 
"you  look  as  if  you -was  'most  beat  out.  Look 
here ;  I  'm  going  off  to-morrow  to  Rainbow  Head, 
to  take  some  things  over  to  Mr.  Standish's  folks 
that  have  made  an  excursion  over  there.  You 
used  to  like  the  water,  Mary  ;  come  with  me. 


320  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

The  boat 's  got  some  sort  of  a  cabin  that  I  can 
rig  up  for  you." 

"  No,  father,  I  can't  go,"  she  said  shortly. 

"  Well,  you  must  do  as  you  please,  I  suppose," 
said  the  easy-going  Captain.  "  I  thought  it 
would  do  you  a  world  of  good,  that 's  all.  Oh, 
here  's  a  letter  that  come  for  you  a  day  or  two 
ago.  I  knew  I  should  be  over  soon,  so  I  did  n't 
send  it  ;  "  and  he  held  out  a  letter  addressed  in 
Herman's  handwriting. 

The  time  had  come.  Mary  had  strength 
enough,  though  with  a  terrible  struggle,  to 
keep  silence,  and  not  ask  her  father  for  the 
letter ;  but  with  it  once  in  her  hand  she  could 
not  put  it  in  her  pocket  and  leave  it  unread, 
as  she  had  done  once  before.  Without  trying 
to  find  an  excuse,  she  left  the  room. 

"  Well,  what  has  come  over  the  girl  ? "  said 
Captain  Rogers,  partly  to  himself,  and  partly 
to  his  old  father-in-law.  "She  's  all  flustered 
like.  Has  she  been  so  long,  father  ?  "  he  went 
on,  turning  to  Captain  Winslow. 

"  How  ? "  said  the  old  man,  with  a  confused 
look. 

"Has  anything  happened  to  Mary  lately?" 
bawled  Captain  Rogers,  in  a  tone  loud  enough 
for  Mary  to  hear  as  she  went  into  her  room, 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  321 

and  which  warned  her  that  she  must  use  more 
self-control  for  the  future. 

"Not  as  I  know  on,"  said  the  old  man,  vaguely ; 
"  there  's  nothing  happened  here  this  long  time." 

Mary  was  in  her  room  now,  and  tore  open  the 
envelope.  She  turned  to  the  end  of  the  letter, 
but  it  was  a  confused  mass  of  words  which 
swam  before  her  eyes.  She  held  the  letter 
away  from  herself  for  an  instant,  then  began 
it  and  read  it  steadily  through:  — 

DEAR  MARY,  —  Forgive  me,  Mary,  for  I  need  it.  I 
did  not  mean  to  do  wrong  to  you,  I  meant  to  make 
it  all  easy  and  right  for  you  to  do  as  you  want  to,  and 
I  have  said  what  I  ought  not ;  it  is  so  hard  to  say 
exactly  what  I  mean.  You  have  been  true  to  me,  I 
know  that  now,  and  you  have  kept  your  word.  I 
never  can  forgive  my  sister  for  daring  to  say  that  you 
had  not ;  but  I  was  a  long  way  off,  and  I  was  afraid, 
not  because  you  were  not  good,  but  because  you  were 
so  much  too  good  for  me  that  I  could  not  realize  you 
cared  for  me.  Now  I  can  think  of  you  as  I  used  to, 
and  I  would  rather  know  that  you  are  what  I  believed 
you  were  and  never  see  you  again,  than  be  your  hus- 
band and  know  I  was  mistaken  in  you.  But  I  must 
not  let  you  give  yourself  up  to  me.  You  would  keep 
your  promise  to  me  if  I  would  let  you,  but  you  cannot 
make'  yourself  love  me  as  you  did  three  years  ago.  I 
have  read  your  letter  until  I  know  it  by  heart ;  and 
when  you  say  you  cannot  find  anything  for  which  you 
21 


322  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

should  blame  yourself,  you  are  right,  but  you  cannot 
say  that  you  love  me,  because  that  would  not  be  true. 
I  have  thought  it  all  over,  and  I  know  how  much  better 
Mr.  Holyoke  is  than  I  am.  I  can  see  how  happy  you 
would  be  with  him,  if  you  had  not  promised  me  ;  and 
—  God  help  me  !  —  I  am  not  selfish  enough  to  let  your 
promise  stand  in  the  way.  You  would  give  yourself 
to  me,  I  know ;  you  might  even  say  that  you  love  me, 
for  I  do  believe  that  you  love  me  as  you  might  love  a 
brother ;  but,  without  knowing  it,  you  have  shown  how 
you  feel  to  me  in  your  last  letter.  If  he  can  say  that 
he  does  not  love  you,  and  never  did,  then  we  will  be 
man  and  wife,  for  I  never  can  think  you  loved  any 
man  who  did  not  love  you.  If  not,  you  must  be  happy 
with  him,  and,  as  he  loves  you,  he  will  find  out  easily 
that  your  word  to  me  does  not  stand  in  the  way  any 
longer.  Do  not  think,  Mary,  that  I  write  this  to  blame 
you.  Before  your  letter  came,  I  was  wretched,  for  I 
thought  every  man  or  woman  who  spoke  kindly  to  me 
was  trying  to  cheat  me ;  but  now,  though  I  cannot  be 
happy,  I  know  that  I  shall  be  a  million  times  better 
man  for  having  loved  you,  and  I  can  look  you  in  the 
face  again  without  being  ashamed  for  me  or  for  you. 

HERMAN  CROCKER. 

P.  S.  —  I  shall  not  leave  Savannah  for  several  days  ; 
then  we  shall  come  straight  home. 

There  was  a  weight  taken  off  Mary's  heart 
when  she  rose  from  reading  the  letter.  All  her 
fancies,  all  her  gloomy  thoughts,  were  swept 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  323 

away  from  her  mind,  now  left  as  clear  as  it 
had  been  a  month  before,  and  for  one  long 
moment  it  was  enough  that  Herman  loved  her 
as  he  ought.  But  the  next  moment  she  had 
taken  another  step.  After  what  Herman  had 
done,  no  false  modesty  ought  to  hold  her  back 
from  doing  her  part.  It  could  not  be,  when 
both  she  and  Herman  loved  each  other  so 
truly,  that  a  few  words  would  fail  to  set  all 
right.  Then  she  thought  how  firm  Herman 
was,  how  hard  it  was  to  make  him  change 
his  determination  when  once  it  was  fixed. 
She  could  read  between  the  words  of  his 
letter  the  pain  it  had  cost  him  to  frame  them, 
and  what  he  had  said  he  would  not  abandon 
lightly.  Then  she  thought  of  George.  Never, 
except  for  that  one  moment  on  the  wharf,  had 
she  believed  that  he  really  loved  her.  She  had 
told  him  a  part  of  her  secret,  and,  as  she  did 
full  justice  to  his  chivalrous  nature,  she  thought 
he  might  be  trusted  with  the  rest  ;  and  how 
gladly  would  she  meet  Herman,  when  he  came 
home,  with  the  news  that  Mr.  Holyoke  had 
declared  that  she  was  nothing  more  to  him 
than  a  friend. 

Was  it  possible  that  she  should  see  him  be- 
fore Herman   came  back?     It  flashed  through 


324  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

her  mind  that  if  Mrs.  Standish  had  taken  a 
large  party  to  Rainbow  Head,  Mr.  Holyoke 
must  be  of  the  number.  If  she  should  sail 
over  there  with  her  father,  as  he  had  just 
asked  her  to  do,  there  would  be  nothing  strange 
in  it  except  perhaps  to  the  eyes  of  such  a  slan- 
derer as  Prudence.  Besides,  she  did  not  greatly 
care  now  whether  she  were  acting  strangely  or 
not.  If  she  could  convince  Herman,  all  was 
well ;  and  if  not,  she  did  not  regard  the  opinion 
of  any  one  else.  Once  at  Rainbow  Head,  she 
would  watch  Mr.  Holyoke,  and  probably  could 
find  out  whether  she  was  right  in  thinking  that 
he  was  merely  her  friend.  If  so,  she  would  seek 
a  chance  to  tell  him  what  she  wanted  him  to  say, 
and  would  come  back  joyful  to  Stapleton  by  the 
time  the  "  Hesperus  "  had  come  to  port. 

She  ran  quickly  downstairs  for  fear  that  her 
father  might  have  gone.  He  was  still  in  the 
sitting-room,  looking  at  his  father-in-law  and 
imagining  that  he  was  entertaining  him,  though 
he  said  but  little,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether 
Captain  Winslow  greatly  heeded  even  that  little. 
Mary  came  in  behind  her  father  and  he  did  not 
see  her. 

"  Did  you  say  that  you  were  going  to  Rainbow 
Head,  father  ? " 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  325 

"Bless  me,  yes,"  said  the  Captain.  "Why, 
what  a  start  you  gave  me,  Mary!  I  thought 
something  was  the  matter." 

"  Well,  if  you  will  take  me,  and  I  can  arrange 
it,  I  will  go  with  you,  as  you  asked  me." 

"  Oh,  I  can  fix  it.  Those  two  young  men 
have  gone  over  there  with  the  Standishes  and  a 
lot  more,  so  your  mother  can  come  here.  The 
water  will  do  you  good ;  I  hate  to  see  you  look 
worn  out,  Mary,"  he  went  on,  his  hoarse  voice 
not  yielding  itself  readily  to  a  sympathetic 
expression. 

The  day  after,  Captain  Rogers  and  Mary 
made  the  voyage  to  Rainbow  Head,  and 
reached  there  in  safety  toward  the  end  of  the 
afternoon. 

At  dinner  on  that  day,  —  the  one  after  their 
arrival  at  the  Head,  —  the  members  of  the 
Standish  party  did  not  seem  altogether  harmo- 
nious. It  was  true  that  Roger  and  Harry  and 
Hildegarde  struggled  to  keep  up  the  spirits  of  the 
others,  and  that  Peter,  like  the  sun,  shone  with 
strict  impartiality  on  the  just  and  on  the  unjust. 
George  was  miserable,  and  made  no  effort  to 
conceal  it;  Clara  had  been  in  good  spirits  at 
breakfast,  now  she  complained  of  a  headache, 
and  was  silent.  Ann  looked  on  the  world  with 


326  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

an  evil  eye,  and  very  nearly  ruffled  even  Peter's 
equanimity.  Caroline  seemed  contented,  but  was 
unusually  quiet.  George  had  to  go  through  the 
terrible  ordeal  of  sitting  face  to  face  with  Clara 
when  he  knew  that  he  must  not  look  at  her  and 
yet  could  not  look  anywhere  else.  He  was  brave 
and  proud,  and,  in  spite  of  his  distress,  he  sat 
there  so  defended  by  his  pride  that  no  one  knew 
his  secret  except  Ann  and  Caroline,  —  nor  could 
Caroline  have  found  it  out  if  she  had  not  been 
a  woman,  and  if  Clara's  face  had  not  been  far 
more  expressive  than  George's. 

"  Miss  Ellison,  if  you  are  so  miserable,"  said 
Harry,  "  could  you  not  seem  a  little  more  cheer- 
ful ?  When  you  are  sad,  all  your  dutiful  sub- 
jects are  prostrated  with  grief." 

"If  my  dutiful  subjects  will  follow  my  whims, 
I  cannot  help  it,  Mr.  Larkyns,"  said  Clara, 
coldly.  Then,  with  an  effort  seen  by  Ann,  who 
watched  her  as  a  cat  does  a  mouse,  she  raised 
her  voice  a  little,  and  looking  across  the  table, 
said  :  "  Is  the  view  from  the  cliffs  as  fine,  Mr. 
Holyoke,  as  it  was  this  mor —  "  she  stopped  and 
flushed  —  "as  it  was  last  evening?  I  did  not 
notice  it  this  morning,  that  is,  not  so  much,"  she 
hurried  on,  giving  the  explanation  to  the  whole 
table  rather  than  to  George. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  327 

He  saw  that  she  was  troubled,  and,  hard  as 
it  was  for  him  to  speak  in  his  natural  voice,  it 
should  be  done  if  she  wished  it.  That  she  had 
been  unfair  to  him  in  the  morning  he  thought 
of  as  his  misfortune  ;  it  did  not  occur  to  him  that 
it  could  be  her  fault. 

"  Yes,  quite  as  fine  ;  the  bright  sun  can't  wash 
away  the  color,  you  know,"  he  said. 

"And  now,  Miss  Ellison,"  said  Harry,  "  since 
Mr.  Holyoke  has  assured  you  that  the  view  is 
fine,  will  you  not  give  me  the  pleasure  of  show- 
ing it  to  you  from  the  water  ?  There  is  a  row- 
boat  which  Roger  has  secured  for  the  evening  ; 
I  am  sorry  to  say  there  is  only  one  fit  to  row  in, 
but  it  is  much  finer  by  daylight  than  under  the 
baleful  rays  of  the  moon.  Perhaps  I  said  the 
opposite  yesterday  ;  but  life  is  n't  worth  living  if 
you  have  to  be  consistent." 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  can't  go,"  said  Clara,  so 
shortly  that  even  Harry  did  not  press  her  with 
any  more  questions ;  and  it  was  some  minutes 
before  the  conversation  emerged  from  beneath 
this  wet  blanket. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  George  had 
got  away  from  the  rest  and  was  stretched  on  the 
coarse  grass,  looking  out  mechanically  at  the 
water.  He  knew  the  exact  size  and  shape  of  a 


328  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

great  black  stain  on  the  mainsail  of  a  schooner 
which  was  passing  by ;  he  did  not  care  any- 
thing about  it,  but  somehow  that  stain  was  the 
only  thing  in  the  whole  broad  view  which  fitted 
into  what  he  was  thinking  of.  So  long  as  any 
one  was  by  him,  especially  so  long  as  he  was 
with  her,  there  was  a  certain  excitement  in  put- 
ting on  a  brave  face  and  bearing  himself  like  a 
man  ;  now  he  could  only  wonder  vaguely  how 
long  this  feeling  would  last,  and  wish  that  night 
would  come  and  go,  so  that  he  could  find  out 
whether  another  day  would  ease  him.  He  felt 
that  he  had  two  selves,  one  of  which  was  in  love 
with  Clara  Ellison,  and  was  lying  out  on  the 
grass  of  Rainbow  Head,  suffering,  and  expecting 
no  relief.  The  other  self  (and  he  could  not  tell 
which  was  the  most  real)  had  no  place,  and  was 
speculating  calmly  upon  the  time  it  would  take 
to  dull  the  edge  of  his  companion's  suffering, 
and  wondering  whether  it  were  true  that  an- 
other love  would  before  long  take  the  place  of 
the  present  one.  On  the  whole,  this  second  self 
believed  that  time  would  be  a  complete  cure :  all 
the  world  said  so,  and  the  world  was  probably 
right ;  it  would  be  presumptuous  to  think  other- 
wise. He  heard  a  voice  behind  him,  and  sprang 
to  his  feet  in  one  bound. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  329 

"  Mr.  Holyoke,"  said  Clara  Ellison  gently,  as 
she  stood  before  him. 

George  could  not  speak,  he  could  not  hope, 
his  heart  beat  so  quickly ;  he  could  only  bend 
his  head. 

"  Mr.  Holyoke,"  she  said  again,  and  then  hur- 
ried on,  "  I  have  been  thinking  of  what  I  said 
to  you  this  morning,  and  I  think  I  owe  you  an 
apology.  I  ought  not  to  have  spoken  to  you  as 
I  did,  and  1  am  very  sorry  if  I  have  hurt  your 
feelings.  Indeed,  I  know  that  I  must  have  hurt 
them,"  she  went  on,  speaking  with  less  con- 
straint, "and  I  hope  we  may  be  friends,  may  we 
not  ? "  she  said,  putting  out  her  hand  toward  him, 
with  one  of  her  old  smiles. 

George  grasped  it,  and  she  did  not  draw  it 
away  as  he  spoke.  If  she  had  not  smiled,  per- 
haps he  could  have  kept  his  peace ;  but  now  it 
was  impossible. 

"And  will  you  not  be  something  more  than 
my  friend,  Clara  ?  If  you  feel  that  you  were 
unjust  this  morning,  now  you  know  how  I  love 
you,  can  you  not  love  me  a  little  in  return  ? " 

There  was  an  instant's  pause.  Clara  stood, 
her  hand  in  his,  looking  at  the  ground,  and  when 
she  raised  her  eyes,  George  saw  in  them  what 
brought  his  heart  into  his  mouth  with  hope ;  but 


330  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

before  he  could  put  his  hope  into  a  thought,  her 
face  had  changed,  and  she  drew  her  hand  away 
from  him,  saying  coldly:  "  No,  I  cannot  love  you, 
Mr.  Holyoke;  I  thought  only  that  I  owed  you 
an  apology  if  I  was  too  harsh  this  morning." 
Then  she  turned  on  her  heel  and  left  him,  and 
George  turned  his  back  on  her  and  faced  the 
water  again. 

There  were  two  people  coming  up  from  the 
beach  toward  him  ;  they  were  not  far  off  ;  he 
saw  that  one  was  a  woman,  and  he  wondered 
whether  her  dress  were  of  cotton  or  woollen. 
Then  suddenly  it  came  into  his  mind  that  these 
two  people  were  Mary  Rogers  and  her  father. 
They  were  close  upon  him  now.  Mary  came 
forward,  and  said,  putting  out  her  hand  with  a 
smile :  "  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Holyoke.  I  see 
that  you  appreciate  this  view,  and  I  hope  you 
will  allow  that  it  is  far  enough  from  home  for 
me  to  see  something  in  it  too." 

George  shook  hands  as  if  he  were  in  a  trance. 
Why  need  she  have  come  at  this  time  ?  He  could 
not  help  being  irritated  with  her  for  a  moment ; 
then  he  tried  to  recover  himself  and  speak  as  if 
he  were  unconcerned.  He  could  not  succeed 
altogether.  If  he  had  not  tried  to  conceal  any- 
thing, Mary  very  likely  would  have  guessed  the 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  331 

truth.  As  it  was,  she  saw  that  he  was  troubled, 
and  not  knowing  why,  gave  to  herself  the  wrong 
reason.  They  walked  together  toward  the  camp, 
Captain  Rogers  carrying  up  from  the  boat  some 
of  the  things  he  had  brought  for  them  from 
Stapleton  ;  and  when  Hildegarde  came  to  meet 
them,  George  left  Mary  with  a  salute,  courteous, 
but  very  cold,  and  walked  off  alone  to  the  cliffs. 
After  a  few  words,  Mary  refused  Hildegarde's 
invitation  to  come  into  the  camp,  and  walked 
back  toward  the  boat  with  her  father. 

"  I  used  to  think  that  that  Mr.  Holyoke  was 
an  uppish  kind  of  fellow,"  said  Captain  Rogers. 
"  One  time  I  'd  almost  changed  my  mind  and 
come  to  like  him,  but  he  did  n't  treat  you  right 
to-day,  Mary,  after  all  as  he  was  so  polite  in 
Stapleton.  If  it  had  been  the  other  young  man, 
you  'cl  ha'  seen  a  difference." 

The  idea  was  a  new  one  to  Mary,  and  it 
flashed  through  her  mind  with  a  sense  of  re- 
lief. Could  it  be,  she  thought,  that  George 
Holyoke  was  ashamed  to  talk  with  her  before 
his  friends  ?  But  the  idea  did  not  last  a  mo- 
ment ;  she  knew  him  much  too  well  to  think 
that.  She  was  not  wont  to  overrate  her  own 
power  of  attracting  men,  but  now  it  seemed  to 
her  that  Ann  had  been  right  that  evening  on 


332  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

Stapleton  wharf,  and  that  George's  feeling  for 
her  was  very  different  from  what  she  had  sup- 
posed ;  and  so  it  was  with  heavy  discouragement 
that  she  got  into  the  skiff  with  her  father  and 
went  off  to  his  boat.  After  their  supper,  when 
the  full  moon  had  risen,  as  she  was  accustomed 
to  the  oars  from  her  childhood,  she  took  the 
small  skiff  and  rowed  round  the  foot  of  Rainbow 
Head. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  333 


XIX. 

THE  moon  shone  very  temptingly  over  the 
camp  as  well,  when  Roger  and  Hilde- 
garde  left  it  that  evening  to  row. 

"  Don't  be  out  too  late,  Hilda  dear,"  said 
Mrs.  Standish  comfortably,  in  the  tone  which 
mothers  use  when  they  mean  their  bidding  to 
be  taken  in  a  very  elastic  sense.  Hildegarde 
took  out  her  watch.  "  Oh,  leave  your  watch 
with  me ;  you  may  hurt  it,"  Mrs.  Standish 
went  on.  It  was  a  new  one,  and  Hilda  took 
it  off. 

"  You  had  better  give  me  yours,  Roger,"  said 
Harry  Larkyns.  "You  '11  wet  it,  or  smash  it  in 
pushing  off  the  boat  ;  you  can  tell  the  time  well 
enough  by  the  moon." 

Now  this  watch  was  as  the  apple  of  Roger's  eye, 
a  magnificent  Frodsham  of  marvellous  accuracy. 
It  is  true  that  it  never  was  right,  because  it  never 
was  set.  And  it  lost  time  with  considerable 
rapidity,  but  it  lost  it  with  remarkable  regularity, 


334  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

which  is  the  one  thing  needful  in  watches  ;  and 
if  Roger  could  wait  to  go  through  a  long  sum, 
and  made  no  mistake  in  the  figuring,  he  could 
tell  the  time  of  day  by  it  quite  well.  He  would 
sooner  throw  the  watch  over  the  cliff  than  give 
it  to  Harry  ;  but  he  hung  it  up  in  his  tent,  and, 
laughing  with  Mrs.  Standish  when  she  asked 
him  if  he  could  tell  time  by  the  moon,  he  led 
Hildegarde  over  the  cliffs  down  to  the  beach. 

It  was  a  weird  descent.  The  light  of  the 
moon  was  too  little  to  make  the  cliffs  brilliant 
as  they  were  by  day,  but  here  and  there  some 
ridge  shone  white  like  the  miniature  of  a  snow- 
ridge  in  the  Alps,  and  the  water  flashed  phos- 
phorescent as  it  dashed  against  the  boulders 
strewn  along  the  beach.  Roger  launched  the 
boat  with  difficulty,  as  the  tide  was  out,  and 
rowed  slowly  away.  At  first  they  were  almost 
silent  ;  then  he  asked  Hildegarde  to  sing,  and 
she  sang  one  or  two  light  pretty  airs  that 
echoed  back  from  the  high  cliffs,  until  Roger 
rowed  out  into  the  Atlantic,  not  noticing  how 
the  tide  carried  the  boat  along. 

"  Miss  Standish,"  said  he  at  last,  "  you  were 
right  the  other  day  when  you  said  that  you 
looked  forward  with  pleasure  to  your  debut  next 
winter." 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  335 

"  Was  I  ?  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,"  said 
Hildegarde,  smiling. 

"  Yes  ;  you  will  be  a  great  success,  —  quite  as 
great  as  you  think,  however  high  you  may  have 
fixed  your  standard." 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  so  favorable  an  opinion 
from  one  who  has  seen  so  much  of  the  world  ;  for 
you  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  it,  have  you  not  ? " 
said  Hildegarde,  with  another  smile.  "But  how 
do  you  know  how  high  my  standard  is  ?  Per- 
haps it  is  a  very  exalted  one." 

"  Yes,"  said  Roger.  "  I  have  seen  something 
of  the  world  ;  at  least  I  think  so,  and  I  believe 
that  I  am  rather  a  good  judge.  It  is  not  often 
that  I  am  taken  in,  and  really  I  have  a  great  re- 
spect for  any  one  who  deceives  me,  —  perhaps 
you  can  hardly  realize  how  great.  I  am  not  given 
to  flattery ;  or,  if  it  is  no  use  to  say  that,  I  am  not 
flattering  you  when  I  say  that  you  will  be  one  of 
the  greatest  successes  it  may  be  my  pleasure  to 
witness  in  the  course  of  my  life." 

"  Don't  you  think  it  is  dangerous  to  give  such 
unstinted  praise  to  one  so  young  ?  My  head  will 
be  turned  by  it,  and  I  shall  not  justify  what  you 
have  said.  You  do  not  flatter  well,  Mr.  Urqu- 
hart  ;  it  is  too  heavy  to  be  graceful,  and  not 
quite  deep  enough  to  be  heartfelt." 


336  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  Age  is  measured  by  years,  by  appearance, 
and  by  reality,"  said  Roger,  in  the  same  senten- 
tious tone.  "  You  are  young  enough  in  years 
and  in  appearance  ;  the  reason  why  I  am  too 
heavy  and  not  deep  enough  for  a  flatterer  is  a 
very  good  one.  I  am  speaking  the  truth,  and  I 
shall  not  turn  your  head,  because  it  is  too  old  in 
reality  not  to  be  very  steady." 

"You  ought  to  go  about  as  a  fortune-teller, 
Mr.  Urquhart,"  said  Hildegarde,  good-naturedly, 
but  in  a  tone  that  was  meant  to  end  the  matter. 
"What  is  that  island  just  in  front  of  us?" 

Roger  turned  unwillingly.  There  was  a  low 
flat  piece  of  sand  rising  just  above  the  water. 
It  had  not  even  the  scanty  growth  of  thatch  or 
beach-grass  which  generally  belongs  to  such 
places,  and  looked  as  if  it  were  given  up  to  the 
nests  of  gulls  and  tern. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said  shortly. 

"  Let  us  land  and  see  what  it  is  like,"  said 
Hildegarde.  Roger  could  do  nothing  but  assent, 
albeit  ungraciously.  They  were  within  a  few 
lengths  of  the  island,  but  as  the  tide  ran  fast, 
Roger  had  to  put  forth  his  strength  for  two  or 
three  minutes  before  the  boat  was  beached. 
Behind  them,  a  third  of  a  mile  off,  lay  the  main- 
land, black  and  monotonous  in  the  moonlight, 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  337 

still  more  indistinct  when  a  cloud,  driven  by 
the  rising  wind,  swept  over  the  moon.  Roger 
and  Hildegarde  left  the  boat,  and  Roger  pulled 
the  bow  two  or  three  feet  upon  the  beach  and 
then  turned  to  leave  it. 

"  Is  that  high  enough  ? "  said  Hildegarde. 

"  Yes,  quite,"  said  he,  again  speaking  shortly 
and  almost  roughly. 

Either  because  of  this  and  to  end  the  conver- 
sation which  Roger  seemed  so  loath  to  give  up, 
or  because  of  her  cramped  position  in  the  boat, 
Hildegarde  sprang  forward  and  ran  quickly 
thirty  or  forty  yards,  nearly  to  the  farther  end 
of  the  island  ;  Roger  followed  more  slowly,  and 
when  he  rejoined  her,  the  moon  flashing  through 
a  cloud  showed  that  he  had  recovered  his  good- 
humor.  For  a  few  moments  they  stood  at  the 
end  of  their  domain,  watching  the  tern  scream- 
ing and  warily  circling  around  them  at  a  safe 
distance.  Then  they  followed  the  shore  of  the 
island,  so  that  a  few  minutes  would  bring  them 
again  to  the  boat,  though  at  the  moment  they 
were  not  going  toward  it.  Hildegarde  was 
nearest  the  water,  and  Roger  walked  beside  her, 
so  that  she  could  not  start  forward  and  leave 
him  as  she  had  just  done.  They  had  gone  but 
two  or  three  steps,  when  he  began  in  the  same 

22 


338  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

tone  he  had  used  before,  and  as  if  he  had  been 
merely  interrupted  by  the  bustle  of  the  landing : 
"  Yes,  you  will  be  a  great  success,  Miss  Standish  ; 
but,  old  as  you  really  are,  you  will  be  older 
in  time,  and  as  a  sincere  well-wisher  I  mean 
to  warn  you.  One  who  assumes  simplicity  must 
be  always  on  her  guard,  and  it  is  hardly  safe, 
even  to  one's  most  intimate  friends,  to  boast 
that  one  is  an  impostor." 

"  Mr.  Urquhart,  I  am  not  quite  so  egotistical 
as  to  take  pleasure  in  talking  only  of  myself; 
suppose  we  change  the  subject." 

"  And  there  is  one  more  thing,"  continued 
Roger,  without  heeding  her.  "  When  one  is  in 
the  midst  of  such  confidences  it  is  best  to  speak 
with  the  door  shut.  You  would  be  deceiving  me 
now  if  you  had  attended  to  such  very  small 
matters  ;  and  as  I  hope  you  may  take  in  others 
more  completely,  I  wish  to  warn  you  in  time." 

Hildegarde  stopped,  and  faced  him  with  a  look 
of  bewilderment.  He  turned  away  with  an  un- 
conscious air  ;  then,  before  she  could  speak,  he 
said  in  a  low  tone,  "  The  boat  is  gone." 

He  stood  still  for  an  instant,  and  then  ran 
toward  the  spot  where  they  had  landed.  The 
boat  was  certainly  gone  ;  and  as  he  strained  his 
eyes  to  see  where  it  had  been  carried,  a  great 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  339 

mass  of  clouds  swept  over  the  moon  and  shut 
out  the  view  entirely.  He  glanced  at  the  sky 
to  see  whether  it  would  soon  clear  again  ;  but  the 
wind,  which  had  been  rising  fast  and  now  was 
blowing  fresh,  had  filled  the  whole  sky  to  wind- 
ward with  dark  clouds,  which  in  a  few  moments 
would  hide  the  stars  that  still  shone  near  the 
horizon  to  leeward.  Roger  was  a  man  both 
brave  and  cool,  and  he  saw  in  that  moment 
what  straits  they  were  in.  He  walked  back  a 
few  steps,  met  Hildegarde  coming  toward  him, 
and  spoke  to  her  quietly  and  firmly  :  "  The  boat 
is  gone,  Miss  Standish,  and  I  do  not  know  how 
we  can  get  it  again  ;  it  has  become  so  dark  that 
I  can  see  nothing." 

Hildegarde  was  silent  for  a  moment.  When 
she  spoke,  it  was  at  first  in  the  same  quiet  voice 
which  he  had  used,  changing  into  a  sort  of  ex- 
ultation as  she  went  on.  "  Then  I  suppose  we 
must  wait  here  all  night,  unless  some  of  them 
find  us.  Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  old  Miles  Stan- 
dish  were  a  viking,  and  I  were  his  daughter. 
It  will  be  magnificent  to  look  at  the  storm  from 
here  to-night." 

"  You  see  that  there  is  a  storm  rising,  then  ? " 
"Yes,   certainly.     I    did   not   notice   it   until 
now  ;  but  it  is  surely  coming." 


340  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

They  walked  forward  a  step  or  two,  then 
Roger  spoke  again,  watching  his  companion  as 
closely  as  he  could  in  the  darkness,  and  straining 
his  ear  to  catch  the  tone  of  her  answer,  not  so 
much  to  encourage  her  if  she  wavered,  as  to  see 
how  much  she  would  bear. 

"  Miss  Standish,  this  is  not  the  time  to  con- 
ceal anything.  It  was  dead  low  tide  when  we 
left  the  Head,  and  the  tide  will  rise  for  five 
hours  more.  The  highest  part  of  this  island  is 
not  two  feet  above  the  water." 

Hildegarde  stooped  down  to  feel  the  sand  ; 
it  was  washed  smooth,  and  beaten  hard  by  the 
waves.  "  May  God  be  with  us,  Mr.  Urquhart !  " 

"  I  cannot  swim  a  hundred  yards,"  said  Roger. 
"  Still,  I  will  do  my  best  to  reach  the  land." 

"  You  must  not  go,"  said  Hildegarde,  quietly. 
"  We  must  wait." 

"There  may  be  some  one  passing,"  said 
Roger;  and,  still  watching  Hildegarde  curiously, 
he  shouted  with  all  his  might.  But  the  wind 
tore  his  shout  to  shreds,  and  scattered  it  before 
it  had  gone  a  fifth  part  of  the  way  to  the  shore. 
Hildegarde  raised  her  voice,  and  the  clear  high 
note  seemed  to  pierce  the  wind  ;  but  the  land 
was  half  a  mile  away,  and  after  one  call  she 
turned  to  Roger  and  said,  "  It  is  of  no  use ! " 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  341 

They  walked  back  to  the  middle  of  the  island  ; 
but  before  they  went,  Roger  silently  stuck  a 
small  piece  of  soaked  driftwood  into  the  sand 
to  mark  the  spot  which  the  tide  had  reached 
already. 

"  You  must  sit  down,"  said  Roger,  speaking 
close  to  her  ear,  that  she  might  hear  him  when 
he  spoke  in  his  natural  voice.  "  You  may  have 
to  stand  presently  ;  "  and  he  took  off  his  coat 
for  her  to  sit  on. 

"  No  ;  you  must  not,"  said  she,  quickly,  sitting 
down.  "  I  am  not  cold,  and  it  is  very  comfort- 
able and  not  very  wet." 

Though  it  was  so  dark  that  he  could  not  see 
the  smile  on  her  face,  he  could  hear  it  in  her 
voice.  He  put  on  his  coat  and  sat  down  beside 
her. 

"  Miss  Standish,  I  ought  to  beg  your  pardon 
for  having  brought  you  here,"  he  said,  in  a 
moment.  "  You  cannot  forgive  me  any  more 
than  I  can  forgive  myself  ;  for  if  I  had  drawn 
the  boat  up  higher,  as  you  asked,  we  should  be 
safe." 

"  There  is  nothing  for  me  to  forgive,"  said 
Hildegarde  ;  "you  did  as  you  thought  best.  It 
would  be  harder  for  me  to  forgive  you  for 
thinking  me  so  unreasonable  as  to  blame  you." 


342  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Roger  knew  that  he 
was  in  great  peril  of  his  life,  and  he  cared  for 
his  life  quite  as  much  as  most  men ;  but  he 
thought  very  little  about  that.  Was  it  possible 
for  this  young  girl,  whose  life  was  a  sham  and 
a  lie,  to  meet  death  so  quietly  ?  Would  she 
act  her  simple  part  up  to  the  very  end  ?  And  if 
she  were  such  an  actress,  how  had  she  been  so 
foolish  as  to  prate  of  her  secret  to  Clara  Ellison  ? 
He  shut  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  and  saw  the 
long  hotel  corridor,  and  heard  Hildegarde's  clear 
voice  and  Clara's  tone  of  disgust.  Was  there 
nothing  now  that  would  break  through  the  sur- 
face and  show  her  as  she  was  ?  Could  he  not 
startle  her  into  confessing  ?  She  was  half  sit- 
ting, half  reclining  on  the  sand,  her  back  to 
the  wind,  her  face  to  the  shore.  He  listened 
closely  for  a  sob  now  that  the  first  excitement 
was  over  and  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to 
wait ;  but  he  could  hear  nothing.  At  last,  reck- 
less whether  it  was  right  or  not,  and  determined 
to  startle  her,  he  bent  forward  and  said  distinctly, 
"  Miss  Standish,  are  you  afraid  to  die  ?  " 

She  did  not  start,  and  only  raised  her  head  so 
that  she  would  have  looked  him  in  the  face  if 
there  had  been  light  enough  to  see. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  was  asking  myself,  Mr. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 


343 


Urquhart.  I  am  very  fond  of  life,  —  so  fond 
that  I  scarcely  ever  wake  up  in  the  morning 
without  thinking  how  happy  my  life  has  been, 
and  is,  and  is  likely  to  be.  Of  course  I  cannot 
tell,  but  I  think  that  even  if  I  were  poor  and 
blind,  still  I  should  feel  the  same  ;  and  yet,  I  do 
not  want  to  boast,  but  I  do  not  think  I  am 
afraid." 

"  I  do  not  think  you  are,"  said  Roger,  in  a 
changed  voice. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause  before  Hilde- 
garde  spoke  again.  "Perhaps  I  should  be  afraid 
to  die  like  this  if  every  one  else  had  died  quietly 
at  home.  But  I  was  thinking  just  now  how  girls 
as  young  as  I  am  have  died  deaths  that  were 
truly  frightful,  and  have  not  flinched ;  and  I 
have  no  right  to  be  afraid.  There  is  a  little 
hymn  of  Praed's  that  I  always  liked,  but  that 
I  never  thought  I  should  need : — 

'  Father,  my  sins  are  very  great : 

Thou  readest  them,  whate'er  they  be  ; 
And  penitence  is  all  too  late, 

And  unprepared  I  come  to  thee, 
Uncleansed,  unblessed,  unshriven  ; 

But  thou,  in  whose  all-searching  sight 
No  human  thing  is  undefiled, 

Thou  who  art  merciful  in  might, — 
Father,  thou  wilt  forgive  thy  child  ; 

Father,  thou  hast  forgiven.'  " 


344  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

There  was  another  pause.  Then  Roger  spoke. 
"  It  is  a  strange  question  to  ask  now  ;  but  what 
did  you  mean  by  what  you  were  saying  yester- 
day to  Miss  Ellison  in  your  room  at  the  hotel  ? 
I  must  know."  • 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  Hildegarde  ; 
and  the  surprise  sounded  genuine.  "  What  was 
it  that  I  said  ?  " 

Roger  repeated  it  as  well  as  he  could  re- 
member. Hildegarde  paused  a  moment,  then 
laughed  brightly.  "  Those  were  the  sentiments 
of  a  young  lady  in  a  book  that  I  was  reading  to 
Clara.  I  will  show  them  to  you  —  I  will  show 
them  to  you  if  I  can,"  she  said  slowly,  in  a 
changed  voice.  "  And  did  you  think  that  I 
would  speak  such  nonsense,  and  such  wicked 
nonsense,  as  that  ? " 

"  I  was  a  fool,  a  thousand  times  a  fool,"  Roger 
broke  out  passionately.  "  I  did  think  it.  If  you 
could  see  how  I  despise  myself  now  for  having 
thought  so,  you  would  forgive  me.  I  believe  you 
will  forgive  me  as  it  is,  for  you  never  hate  any 
one ;  but  in  the  short  time  that  is  left  me  to  live 
I  never  can  forgive  myself.  After  I  heard  that 
wicked  nonsense  I  thought  —  I  hardly  can  bring 
myself  to  say  what  I  thought,  but  I  must  speak, 
so  that  you  may  know  everything  —  that  when 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  345 

you  spoke  to  me  as  you  did  at  your  home  and 
that  night  at  the  camp-meeting  you  were  lying 
to  me  ;  that  your  life  was  one  lie.  I  —  a  miser- 
able wretch  who  could  not  tell  the  simplest  truth 
from  falsehood  ! " 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  you,"  said  Hildegarde, 
gently. 

"  I  thought  you  had  deceived  me,"  he  went 
on,  a  little  more  quietly ;  "  and  it  was  to  expose 
you  that  I  asked  you  to  come  with  me  this 
evening ;  and  it  was  because  I  was  angry  with 
you  for  not  answering  my  insults,  that  I  would 
not  draw  up  the  boat  as  you  asked  me." 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself  any  more  with  it 
now,"  said  Hildegarde ;  and  she  put  out  her 
hand  to  him. 

"  I  cannot  take  it,"  said  Roger,  vehemently, 
turning  away  and  rising  to  his  feet.  Hilde- 
garde rose  too,  and,  as  he  stood  with  his  back 
toward  her,  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder.  He 
turned  round  almost  reluctantly. 

"  Mr.  Urquhart,  I  do  forgive  you,  for  you  have 
done  me  wrong.  Let  us  be  friends  now." 

He  took  her  hand  as  if  he  would  raise  it  to 
his  lips  ;  then,  as  the  thought  flashed  into  his 
mind,  he  knelt  on  the  sand  and  bowed  his  head 
over  it. 


346  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  I  believe,"  he  said  slowly,  "  that  I  would  go 
through  all  again  to  know  what  you  are." 

As  he  rose,  Hildegarde  sat  down  again  on  the 
damp  sand.  He  stood  beside  her  a  moment, 
pausing,  as  if  he  meant  to  say  something,  then 
turned  away  abruptly,  and  walked  a  dozen  steps 
to  the  edge  of  the  water,  stooped  down  and 
looked  at  the  piece  of  wood  which  he  had  stuck 
into  the  beach,  and  which  was  now  surrounded 
by  the  tide.  He  hesitated  a  moment,  as  if  he 
were  afraid  of  wetting  his  feet ;  then,  shaking 
his  head,  with  a  curious  smile  stepped  into  the 
water,  took  it  up,  and  put  it  down  again  at  the 
water's  edge.  In  a  moment  he  came  back  to 
Hildegarde. 

"  The  tide  is  rising,"  he  said,  "  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  it  comes  in  very  slowly.  I  will  strike 
a  match,  to  look  at  the  time."  He  put  his  hand 
into  his  pocket  to  draw  out  his  match-box,  then 
recollected  that  he  had  left  his  watch  in  his  tent. 
"  It 's  of  no  use,"  he  went  on,  stooping  down  so 
that  Hildegarde  could  hear  him  ;  "  we  cannot  tell 
whether  the  time  is  long  or  short." 

He  turned  and  faced  toward  the  land,  guided 
by  the  frequent  flashes  from  the  great  lighthouse 
on  Rainbow  Head,  which  were  all  that  he  or 
Hildegarde  could  now  see  except  the  dim  outline 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  347 

of  each  other's  form.  He  had  lost  all  hope  of 
help  ;  or  rather  he  had  no  hope,  for  he  did  not 
feel  as  if  he  had  lost  anything.  It  was  worth 
death  to  die  with  Hildegarde,  and  that  no  power 
could  take  away  from  him.  He  had  stood  there 
but  a  moment,  when  Hildegarde  arose  and  stood 
beside  him. 

"  Mr.  Urquhart,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  too 
gentle  to  contain  the  least  complaint,  "I  can- 
not sit  still  now ;  let  us  walk  up  and  down  a 
little." 

He  gave  her  his  arm,  and  they  walked  from 
one  end  to  the  other  of  the  little  island,  careless 
now  if  an  occasional  wave  swept  in  over  their 
feet.  Roger  was  silent,  thinking  hard  whether 
it  were  best  to  speak  out  what  was  in  his 
mind. 

"  Miss  Standish,"  he  began  at  last,  "  I  must 
tell  you  now  what  you  have  done  for  me.  There 
is  very  little  chance  that  I  ever  can  show  to 
men  how  great  the  change  is,  but  I  can  at  least 
tell  you." 

"  If  I  have  done  you  any  good,  you  make  me 
very  happy,  —  happier  than  I  can  tell." 

"  And  there  is  another  thing  that  I  must  say," 
Roger  went  on.  "  If  we  were  safe  on  shore,  I 
would  go  away  and  show  the  power  that  is  in 


348  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

me ;  then  come  back  to  your  home,  and,  if  you 
were  still  there,  ask  you  to  be  my  wife ;  now 
I  can  ask  nothing,  —  not  your  love,  for  you  can- 
not love  me  as  you  have  known  me.  I  can  only 
tell  you  my  love,  and  ask  you  not  to  answer 
me  at  all." 

He  could  feel  Hildegarde's  arm,  which  was 
resting  on  his,  give  a  sudden  start ;  but  just  then 
wave  after  wave,  driven  by  the  increasing  wind, 
broke  over  the  place  where  they  were  standing, 
and  they  fled  to  the  one  small  spot  which  was 
above  the  water.  They  had  not  stood  there  an 
instant,  when,  across  the  wake  made  by  the 
light,  they  saw  a  small  boat  with  one  person  in 
it  pulling  towards  the  shore.  Roger  tried  to 
shout,  but  stopped,  knowing  how  much  farther 
Hildegarde's  voice  could  reach  than  his  own. 
More  than  once  she  called  before  she  was  heard. 
The  boat  was  pulled  around  so  as  to  face  the 
sea,  and  slowly  the  oarsman  struggled  to  make 
his  way  toward  the  island  where  they  stood. 
But  the  sea  ran  high  against  him,  and  the  tide 
cut  him  back.  When  the  bright  flash  from  the 
lighthouse  died  away  into  the  faint  light  that 
shone  between-whiles,  they  could  see  nothing  ; 
and  when  the  fiery  glare  shot  forth  again,  some- 
times the  boat  had  left  the  track,  and  must  be 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 


349 


called  back  to  it.  Each  time  Hildegarde's  voice 
rang  out  clear,  and  it  seemed  to  Roger  that  it 
put  new  life  into  the  oarsman.  He  needed  it 
sorely,  for  the  struggle  was  long,  though  the 
boat  was  not  far  off.  The  spray  flew  up  in  a 
cloud  when  she  struck  the  waves,  and  though 
the  oarsman  drove  his  oars  bravely  into  the 
water,  Roger  thought  that  his  strength  seemed 
almost  gone.  But  the  boat  was  small  and  buoy- 
ant, and  slowly,  very  slowly,  it  drew  nearer.  It 
was  not  far  off  from  the  beach  when  Roger 
saw  that  the  person  sitting  in  it  was  a  woman. 
At  almost  the  same  instant  he  rushed  into  the 
water,  and,  seizing  the  bow,  dragged  it  ashore. 
Mary  Rogers  was  in  it,  so  exhausted  that  she 
hardly  could  speak.  She  saw  at  a  glance  what 
the  situation  was. 

"  The  boat  is  too  small  to  carry  three  people 
in  it  when  there  is  so  much  sea,"  she  said  feebly. 
"  I  am  too  weak  to  row  the  boat  ashore.  Mr. 
Urquhart,  do  you  take  Miss  Standish,  and  I  will 
rest  here  until  you  send  some  one  back." 

"  No,  we  cannot  leave  you  here,"  said  Hilde- 
garde,  firmly,  "  after  you  have  saved  us." 

Roger  looked  eagerly  at  the  boat,  —  a  little  skiff 
which  Captain  Rogers  used  as  a  tender  for  his 
sail-boat.  It  was  made  to  carry  one  person  over 


350  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

smooth  water,  and  it  seemed  perilous  enough  to 
take  two  people  in  it  over  the  waves  to  the 
shore ;  but  he  saw  in  an  instant  that  to  put 
three  people  in  it  would  be  certain  destruction. 
As  they  stood  there  uncertain,  the  first  wave 
sent  its  advance  guard,  a  thin  film  of  water, 
clean  over  the  little  island. 

"  There  is  no  time  to  waste,"  said  Mary,  re- 
covering a  little  from  her  exhaustion.  "You 
must  start  directly,  Mr.  Urquhart." 

"  Do  you  and  Miss  Rogers  take  the  boat, " 
said  Roger  to  Hildegarde.  "  When  you  get  to 
shore  you  can  send  some  one  back  to  me.  I 
can  take  care  of  myself  here." 

"But  I  am  no  oarswoman,  and  couldn't  pos- 
sibly row  to  the  shore,"  said  Hildegarde,  cheer- 
fully. "  You  must  go  with  Miss  Rogers,  and 
the  sooner  the  better ;  for  I  don't  wish  to  wait 
here  longer  than  I  need." 

"  I  cannot  leave  you  here,  with  the  tide  rising," 
said  Roger,  passionately. 

"The  tide  rises  but  little  here,"  said  Mary, 
still  feebly.  "  It  will  be  a  wild  place  on  this 
sand-bank  before  any  one  can  get  back ;  but  if 
you  can  face  the  waves,  the  water  will  not  be 
very  high." 

"  You  hear,  Mr.  Urquhart,"  said  Hildegarde, 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  351 

aloud.  "  I  shall  be  safe."  Then,  speaking  low 
to  Roger,  so  that  Mary  could  not  hear  her,  "  I 
know  it  is  hard  for  you  to  leave  me  here, — 
harder  a  great  deal  than  to  stay  yourself ;  but 
that  is  what  you  must  do,  Mr.  Urquhart,  and  for 
Miss  Rogers's  sake  you  must  do  it  cheerfully. 
Give  my  love  to  my  father  and  mother  and 
Nelly,  if  I  don't  see  them  ;  but  1  believe  that 
I  shall.  You  hear  what  Miss  Rogers  says  about 
the  tide,  and  I  am  strong,  and  can  swim  a  little. 
Now,  go  quickly,"  she  said  aloud. 

Roger  turned  without  a  word,  put  Mary  into 
the  skiff,  and  began  to  push  off  from  the 
island. 

"  I  will  call  to  you,"  said  Hildegarde,  "  when 
I  think  it  is  time  for  you  to  have  come  within 
hail.  Good-by,"  she  cried,  as  the  oars  and  waves 
carried  the  boat  away  into  the  darkness. 

The  pull  to  the  shore  did  not  seem  long  even 
to  Roger,  for  tide  and  wind  and  sea  were  with 
him,  and  before  he  expected  it,  the  surf  dashed 
the  boat  in  upon  the  beach. 

"  Miss  Rogers,"  he  said  hastily,  speaking  in 
a  tone  of  command,  and  even  in  the  darkness, 
glancing  out  to  sea  as  he  spoke,  "  you  must  tell 
them  to  get  some  boats  and  search  for  her  ; 
whoever  finds  her  will  build  a  bonfire  on  the 


352  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

Head  to  call  the  others  back.     I  will  find  her 
myself,  but  it  is  not  right  to  run  any  risk." 

He  turned  to  the  skiff,  and  tried  to  launch  it 
in  the  surf.  In  the  dark,  alone  and  unskilled 
as  he  was,  over  and  over  again  he  was  thrown 
back  on  the  beach,  bruised,  sometimes  half 
stunned  ;  and  every  fresh  disaster  brought  so 
much  greater  risk  to  Hildegarde.  At  last,  by 
dint  of  strength  and  good  luck,  he  passed  the 
line  of  breakers,  and  pulled  away  from  the  shore. 
The  oars  were  short  and  would  not  take  hold  of 
the  water,  the  boat  seemed  to  pound  its  life  out 
on  each  wave,  and  the  tide  cut  him  away  from 
the  place  he  tried  to  reach  ;  but  all  this  he 
hardly  thought  about  :  it  was  the  darkness  that 
discouraged  him.  Glancing  back  at  the  great 
light  on  Rainbow  Head,  he  tried  to  shape  his 
course  so  as  to  bring  it  to  bear  as  it  had  done 
from  the  little  island  ;  but  he  could  not  tell  how 
far  off  it  was,  or  even  how  it  bore,  except  by 
comparing  its  direction  with  that  of  the  wind. 
The  splashing  and  pounding  of  the  little  skiff 
so  filled  his  ears,  that  he  doubted  if  he  could  hear 
Hildegarde's  voice,  though  very  near ;  every 
now  .and  then  it  seemed  that  the  wind  brought 
it  to  him,  and  then  again  he  felt  sure  that  this 
was  a  mere  delusion.  He  lost  reckoning  of 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  353 

time,  he  rowed  on,  that  was  all ;  if  he  stopped, 
he  knew  that  he  should  despair,  and  he  felt  that 
he  should  throw  himself  into  the  water.  The 
despair  was  shutting  down  upon  him,  and  he 
tugged  wildly  at  the  oars,  now  hardly  listening 
for  the  call  that  was  to  guide  him,  when  at  last 
he  thought  he  heard  it.  Yes,  he  would  be 
almost  sure  that  he  heard  it,  if  so  much  were 
not  at  stake.  He  changed  his  course  slightly, 
and  pulled  the  harder.  He  was  sure  of  it  now  ; 
and,  turning  around,  tried  to  hail  back  against 
the  wind,  for  he  would  end  her  suspense  as  soon 
as  might  be  ;  then  he  pulled  away  again.  Her 
call  sounded  clearer,  and  again  he  called  back. 
This  time  he  heard  a  voice  he  could  recognize, 
cry,  "  All 's  well  !  "  and  in  a  moment  more 
another  call  guided  him  to  the  spot  where  the 
island  had  been,  and  where  Hildegarde  stood 
fighting  with  the  waves  that  now  swept  over  it. 

He  dragged  her  into  the  boat  and  laid  her  in 
the  bottom  of  it,  wrapping  her  in  his  coat,  which 
she  did  not  refuse  now.  Then  he  turned  to  the 
shore.  The  passage  seemed  longer  this  time,  for 
he  felt  that  she  needed  food  and  fire  ;  but  at  last 
a  great  wave  landed  them  on  the  beach.  He 
sprang  out  and  dragged  the  boat  above  reach 
of  the  water,  and  then  looked  down  at  her. 
23 


354  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

"  I  must  ask  you  to  help  me,"  she  said,  lan- 
guidly, as  she  put  out  one  hand  toward  him. 

He  bent  down  to  her.  "You  are  tired,  and 
I  will  carry  you,"  he  said,  as  he  put  his  arms 
under  her  and  raised  her  in  them. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  gently ;  and  dropping 
her  head  on  his  shoulder  like  a  tired  child,  she 
was  carried  up  the  cliff  to  the  camp. 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  355 


XX. 

THE  wind  did  not  go  down  that  night  ;  on 
the  contrary,  it  blew  harder  and  harder, 
and  by  the  morning  a  real  storm  was  dashing 
the  waves  against  the  foot  of  Rainbow  Head, 
and  had  made  the  little  island  a  mass  of  white 
breakers,  which  seemed  near  shore  when  one 
looked  at  them  from  the  top  of  the  cliff.  It  was 
raining  at  intervals,  too  much  to  permit  the  long 
drive  back  to  Grove  Heights.  One  or  two  of 
the  tents  had  blown  down,  and  the  party  had 
taken  refuge  in  the  cottage  belonging  to  the 
lighthouse-keeper. 

From  the  exposure  and  anxiety  of  the  pre- 
ceding evening  Mrs.  Standish  seemed  to  have 
suffered  the  most.  Roger  and  Hildegarde  had 
recovered,  though  both  were  very  quiet,  and,  as 
Ann  thought,  tried  to  avoid  each  other.  Mary, 
who  had  come  into  the  cottage  for  shelter,  looked 
as  pretty  as  ever,  and  all  the  men  except  George 
made  a  heroine  of  her.  Roger  was  anxious  to 


356  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

make  up  for  any  past  neglect,  and  Harry  and 
Peter  scarcely  needed  her  gallantry  of  the  night 
before  to  make  them  attentive.  George  spoke 
to  her  once,  but  she  thought  it  was  in  a  perfunc- 
tory way,  and  that  he  took  very  good  care  she 
should  have  no  chance  to  speak  to  him  alone. 
He  noticed  curiously  that  Clara  lavished  on  her 
every  attention  she  could  devise,  trying  to  antici- 
pate her  every  wish,  even  to  the  neglecting  of 
Hildegarde.  Yet  it  did  not  seem  to  him  that 
she  was  acting  spontaneously  ;  he  rather  thought 
it  was  a  sense  of  duty  that  drove  her  on  against 
her  own  inclinations,  for  she  did  not  try  to  talk 
with  Mary,  but  only  to  wait  upon  her. 

Meantime,  that  which  had  been  a  strong  wind 
in  the  evening  and  a  severe  storm  in  the  morning, 
as  the  day  went  on,  became  a  frightful  gale.  The 
rain  drove  horizontally  against  the  windows  of 
the  house  ;  the  house  itself  seemed  to  give  way 
a  little  to  the  fiercest  blasts  of  the  wind  ;  an 
open  wagon  had  been  "blown  over  and  smashed 
to  pieces  in  the  stable-yard,  and  from  the  win- 
dows on  the  leeward  side  of  the  house  they  could 
see  strong  birds  struggle  with  might  and  main  to 
fly  against  the  wind,  barely  hold  their  own,  and 
after  a  few  moments  drop  back  exhausted  to  the 
ground.  In  spite  of  this  the  gentlemen  had 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  357 

forced  their  way  out  to  look  at  the  surf,  and, 
coming  back,  had  reported  that  it  was  running 
very  high  and  breaking  off  now  and  then  from 
the  foot  of  the  cliff  a  bit  of  clay,  which  colored 
the  foam.  It  began  to  grow  dark  early  in  the 
afternoon,  for  it  was  very  thick  at  sea.  Mrs. 
Standish  was  wondering  how  the  entire  party 
would  be  able  to  pass  the  night  in  the  cottage, 
when  Captain  Rogers,  who  had  secured  his  own 
boat  in  a  little  creek  which  ran  inland  some 
distance  from  the  Head,  came  up  to  the  house. 
He  walked  quietly  into  the  room,  and,  speaking 
to  George,  told  him  that  a  vessel  had  just  struck 
a  little  way  off  the  Head  and  soon  would  go  to 
pieces. 

He  spoke  only  to  George,  but  every  one  heard 
him.  The  ladies  crowded  round  him,  asking  ques- 
tions ;  the  men  got  themselves  ready  to  go  out 
into  the  storm.  Rude  as  the  weather  was,  the 
ladies  too,  none  of  whom  had  ever  seen  a  wreck, 
insisted  on  following  them  and  looking  at  the 
vessel.  They  wrapped  themselves  in  shawls  and 
waterproofs,  which  now  and  then  the  gale  tore 
from  their  grasp,  and  were  dragged  to  the  edge 
of  the  cliff.  To  stand  there  for  more  than  an 
instant  was  impossible  ;  but  two  clay  crags,  jut- 
ting forth,  had  left  a  gully  scooped  out  between 


358  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

them  by  the  wash  of  the  rain  and  by  the  melting 
snow  in  spring.  In  the  bottom  of  this  gully,  with 
a  white  cliff  before  and  a  black  cliff  behind,  they 
were  a  little  sheltered  from  the  wind,  while  they 
could  see  the  wreck. 

The  vessel  lay  not  very  far  from  them  ;  whether 
she  had  struck  on  a  rock  or  a  sand-bank  they 
could  not  tell.  Evidently  she  had  seen  nothing 
until  it  was  too  late ;  and  after  she  had  struck 
once,  it  was  utterly  impossible  to  get  away  from 
the  shore  just  under  her  lee.  She  was  a  brigan- 
tine ;  her  foremast  had  been  carried  away  by  the 
force  of  the  blow,  and  with  its  mass  of  yards,  stays, 
and  running  rigging  had  toppled  over  the  bow, 
and  was  thrashing  and  beating  the  sea  just  inside 
the  vessel.  As  it  fell,  it  had  so  strained  her  and 
broken  her  open,  that  there  needed  no  other  leak 
to  fill  her  with  water  and  change  her  in  an  instant 
from  a  living  vessel  to  a  dead  wreck.  Some- 
times a  huge  swell  would  lift  her  up  like  a  play- 
thing and  dash  her  down  again  with  immeasura- 
ble force ;  then  a  great  curling  wave  would  rise 
above  her  and  thunder  down  upon  her  deck.  Her 
boats  were  gone,  and  she  was  near  enough  for 
them  to  see  several  men  clinging  to  the  main- 
mast. Stout  and  strong  as  it  was,  the  weakest 
reed  that  grew  had  a  better  chance  of  holding 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  359 

up  its  head.  Every  blow  that  struck  the  vessel 
seemed  as  though  it  would  snap  the  mast ;  and  if 
it  went,  the  men  would  be  thrown  out  into  the 
sea  to  take  their  chances  of  being  drowned  by 
the  waves  or  dashed  to  pieces  on  the  rocks  that 
strewed  the  shore  and  turned  the  water  to  foam. 
It  was  a  sight  that  you  would  go  far  to  keep 
from  seeing,  but  from  which,  once  seen,  no  power 
could  take  your  eyes. 

Mrs.  Standish  and  the  rest  were  all  huddled 
together  in  the  bottom  of  the  gully,  wet,  and 
crouching  down  to  escape  the  wind  as  much  as 
possible. 

"  Are  they  going  to  do  nothing  for  those 
wretched  men  ? "  said  Clara  to  Harry  Larky ns 
with  a  shudder.  "  Can  that  mast  stand  long  ?  " 

"  A  very  little  while,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Harry. 
"  They  have  tried  to  send  off  a  rocket  to  them, 
but  she  lies  too  far  out,  and  the  wind  is  too 
strong." 

Just  then  Captain  Rogers  came  down  from 
the  top  of  the  cliff,  with  a  look  on  his  face  that 
his  officers  and  men  had  seen  it  wear  when  a  hard 
storm  was  blowing  its  worst,  —  a  look  very  differ- 
ent from  the  good-natured  smile  he  showed  at 
home.  He  came  up  to  George,  and  took  him  a 
step  apart,  then  spoke  short  and  sharp  :  "  That 


360  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

mast  won't  stay  in  that  vessel  another  hour; 
and  when  it  goes,  not  more  than  one  of  those 
eight  men  ever  will  see  the  land.  Rockets 
won't  reach  her.  There  's  nothing  to  do  but  to 
try  a  boat,  and  there  ain't  enough  of  us  to  man 
her.  You  gentlemen  can  pull  an  oar.  Will  you 
help  us?" 

"  Of  course,"  said  George.    "  We  all  will  come." 

"  Mind,  I  don't  say  it  ain't  dangerous,"  Cap- 
tain Rogers  went  on,  as  if  he  had  been  in- 
terrupted. "  There  's  great  danger.  I  don't  want 
none  of  you  to  go  with  your  eyes  shut.  There  's 
great  danger  to  you,  but  it 's  the  only  chance  for 
them,"  and  he  jerked  his  hand  in  the  direction  of 
the  vessel. 

"  It  makes  no  difference  to  me,"  said  George, 
"  and  I  don't  think  it  will  to  the  others." 

They  both  turned  again  to  the  group.  George 
spoke  to  the  three  men,  and  they  answered  with- 
out a  moment's  thought,  —  Peter  as  well  as  the 
rest ;  for  a  man  to  be  brave  does  not  need  to  be 
wise.  Captain  Rogers  went  up  to  Mary. 

"  I  'm  afeared  it 's  the  '  Hesperus,'  Mary,"  he 
said. 

She  gave  a  start,  and  grasped  at  the  clay 
ridge  beside  her  for  support.  "  Father  !  "  she 
said,  almost  in  a  whisper  ;  then,  recovering 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  361 

herself,  she  looked  full  at  him.     "  You  say  it  is 
the  '  Hesperus  ? '  "  she  said  firmly. 

"  I  'm  afearecl  so,"  said  the  Captain. 

George  was  standing  near,  and  he  heard  the 
last  question  and  answer.  As  Captain  Rogers 
turned  to  go  away,  he  took  a  step  forward,  and 
stood  beside  Mary. 

"  The  '  Hesperus'  was  the  vessel — "  he  began. 

"  In  which  he  sailed;  yes,"  said  Mary,  scarcely 
able  to  speak. 

"  Do  not  be  too  much  cast  down,  Miss 
Rogers,"  said  George,  holding  out  his  hand. 
"  We  will  bring  him  in  to  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  she,  grasping  the  hand 
and  turning  away  her  face. 

The  men  were  going  now,  and  as  they  went 
George  came  up  to  Clara  ;  but  before  he  could 
open  his  mouth  she  began,  speaking  quickly 
with  great  excitement :  "  You  are  not  going  to 
risk  your  lives  to  save  those  men,  are  you,  Mr. 
Holyoke  ?  Why  should  n't  you  be  safe  as  well 
as  they  ?  You  are  of  more  importance  in  the 
world." 

"  It  is  only  danger  for  us  ;  it  is  almost  sure 
destruction  for  them,"  said  George,  gently.  "  You 
would  go  if  you  were  in  my  place.  Good-by," 
and  he  put  out  his  hand. 


362  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

"  But  you  must  not  go,"  said  Clara,  still  more 
excited.  "  It  is  wicked  to  take  such  a  risk, 
—  and  to  make  the  others  go  too!" 

"  You  could  not  prevent  them  from  going  any 
more  than  you  can  prevent  me,"  said  George, 
surprised  at  her  vehemence.  "  Good-by." 

She  grasped  his  hand  and  held  it  tight. 
"  You  shall  not  go  !  " 

"  I  must.  Forgive  me,  but  you  are  not  think- 
ing of  what  you  are  saying." 

She  paused  an  instant ;  then  said  slowly,  look- 
ing down :  "  There  are  things  I  want  to  explain 
to  you.  Will  you  go  if  I  beg  you  to  stay  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  for  you  would  be  ashamed  of  me  if  I 
did  not,"  said  George,  firmly. 

Clara  turned  to  Mary,  who  was  standing  near. 
"  Has  he  any  right  to  go,  Miss  Rogers  ?  Tell 
him  he  ought  to  stay."  The  instant  she  had 
spoken  she  realized  of  whom  she  had  asked  the 
question,  and  glanced  suspiciously  from  Mary  to 
George. 

"  You  hardly  can  expect  me  to  bid  him  stay 
here,"  said  Mary,  calmly  (for  now  she  was  mis- 
tress of  herself),  "when  the  man  —  I  —  love  — 
is  on  that  vessel." 

Clara  started,  but  still  clung  to  George's  hand, 
her  breath  coming  short  and  her  eyes  flashing. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  363 

"  The  man  you  love  !  "  she  said  slowly,  as  if 
dazed,  looking  toward  Mary.  Then,  turning 
to  George,  she  went  on  quickly:  "Then  you 
never — "  She  stopped  short,  and  looked  down. 
After  an  instant  she  raised  her  eyes  again. 
"  Go,  go  !  I  was  wrong,"  she  said.  "  Go  - 
and  come  back  again,"  she  added,  in  a  lower 
tone. 

George  bent  his  head  toward  her.  "  I  said 
just  now  to  her  that  I  would  bring  him  back, 
and  thought  that  so  long  as  I  did  that  I  should 
not  care  very  much  what  became  of  me.  Now 
I  will  come  back  too." 

He  left  her,  and  rushed  to  join  the  others. 
A  moment  before,  as  Roger  turned  to  go,  his 
eyes  sought  out  Hildegarde,  to  whom  he  had 
scarcely  spoken  that  whole  day.  As  he  went  up 
the  gully  he  must  go  close  by  her  ;  and  as  he 
passed  she  spoke  to  him,  and  he  stopped. 

"  Now  you  are  showing  the  power  that  is  in 
you,"  she  said,  looking  him  full  in  the  face. 

"  This  —  this  is  nothing,"  said  Roger,  almost 
with  a  laugh.  "  To  row  a  boat  to  save  a  ship's 
crew,  —  there  never  was  a  time  when  I  would 
not  have  done  this.  No,"  he  went  on  more 
earnestly,  "  it  is  hard  to  go  only  because  I  may 
die  to-day,  before  I  have  done  anything.  If 


364  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

I  die,  you  will  know  that,  since  yesterday,  it  is 
not  my  fault." 

He  saw  a  look  on  her  face  that  he  never  had 
seen  there  before,  and  for  the  first  time  she 
seemed  to  find  it  hard  to  speak. 

"  If  you  die,  I  shall  remember  what  you  have 
done,"  she  said  at  last. 

"  That  is  more  than  I  dared  to  hope,  and  more 
than  I  deserve,"  he  said  gravely. 

The  men  were  gone,  and  the  women  —  Ann, 
Caroline,  Clara,  Hildegarde,  Mary,  and  Mrs.  Stan- 
dish —  were  left  together.  They  could  not  see 
the  place  where  the  boat  was  to  be  launched, 
and  it  must  be  some  considerable  time  before 
it  should  come  into  sight  around  the  point 
that  hid  it,  —  how  long  they  could  not  tell ; 
but  there  they  stood,  straining  their  eyes  to 
see  it  through  the  driving  rain,  —  all  but 
Mary,  who  looked  steadfastly  at  the  mast, 
which  seemed  to  bend  under  its  human  freight 
as  the  sea  struck  blow  after  blow  at  its  foot. 
At  last  a  huge  wave  dealt  upon  the  side  of 
the  vessel  a  stroke  so  heavy  that  the  mast, 
reeling  like  a  drunken  man,  shook  off  into  the 
same  wave  one  of  the  eight  men  who  clung  to  it. 
Mary  gave  a  gasp,  and  started  ;  then  she  seized 
Clara's  hand.  They  saw  the  man  no  more.  A 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  365 

human  head  was  a  small  thing  to  make  out 
among  those  great  waves,  and  they  were  not 
curious  to  discover  whether  that  head  sank 
down  forever  or  was  broken  to  pieces  on  the 
rocks ;  the  vessel  was  too  far  off  for  them  to 
know  whether  the  man  were  Herman  or  not. 
They  looked  once  at  each  other  ;  and  then,  as 
a  cry  from  Caroline  showed  that  the  boat  was 
in  sight,  they  turned  away,  one  to  the  boat  and 
the  other  back  again  to  the  vessel. 

The  life-boat,  long,  and  high  both  in  the  bow 
and  the  stern,  sat  lightly  on  the  top  of  the  waves, 
and  they  could  not  realize  how  much  skill  and 
strength  were  needed  to  keep  it  upright.  By 
their  dress  and  general  air  they  could  recognize 
the  four  men  at  the  oars,  —  four  natives  rowing 
also.  Captain  Rogers  sat  in  the  stern  and 
steered.  Very,  very  slowly  the  boat  advanced. 
The  crew  were  strong,  and  over  smooth  water 
it  would  have  needed  but  little  time  to  row  a 
distance  so  short.  Now,  very  often,  in  spite  of 
the  stout  men  bending  at  the  oars,  there  seemed 
no  gain  at  all ;  and  while  the  five  women  thought 
that  every  great  wave  must  throw  the  boat  back 
upon  the  rocks,  the  one  woman  could  not  believe 
that  the  mast  would  bear  another  shock.  But 
the  boat  did  gain.  Foot  by  foot  she  crept  up 


366  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

under  the  lee  of  the  vessel,  until  the  fall  of  the 
mast  would  carry  down  her  crew  as  well  as  the 
men  she  came  to  save  ;  and  now  Mary  and  Clara 
looked  the  same  way. 

As  the  vessel  careened  toward  the  shore,  her 
mast  actually  reached  out  over  the  boat,  and 
one  of  the  seven  men  clinging  there  lowered 
himself  into  her  by  a  piece  of  the  rigging. 
Another  followed  ;  but  at  first  he  did  not  find 
the  boat  beneath  him,  and  swayed  to  and  fro 
in  the  air  until  he  came  above  her.  A  third, 
coming  after,  misjudged  the  place  where  she 
lay,  and  dropped  into  the  water ;  but  as  a  wave 
swept  him  past  the  stern,  Captain  Rogers  seized 
him  and  dragged  him  in.  As  he  did  so,  how- 
ever, his  hand  let  go  the  tiller-rope  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  the  boat  nearly  fell  away  into  the 
trough  of  the  sea.  It  was  a  little  time  before 
she  was  headed  again  to  the  waves,  and  the 
fourth  man  came  down  in  safety.  The  fifth 
had  barely  left  the  mast,  when  a  horrible  blow 
given  to  the  vessel  wrenched  the  rope  from 
his  hands,  and  he  fell,  never  to  reappear.  The 
next  had  almost  reached  the  boat,  when  he  let 
the  rope  go  too  soon,  and  was  in  the  water. 
Holding  their  breath,  Mary  and  Clara  looked, 
hoping  to  see  him  saved  by  the  captain  ;  but 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  367 

his  head  came  up  too  far  astern.  He  tried  to 
make  a  good  fight  with  the  sea,  but  in  an  in- 
stant another  wave  beat  him  down,  and  it  was 
a  long  time  before  he  rose  again,  much  nearer 
the  rocks.  His  face  was  towards  them,  and 
Clara  could  hear  Mary  say  to  herself,  "  It  is 
not  he."  Again  a  wave  went  over  him,  and 
whether  they  saw  him  afterward  or  not  they  did 
not  know ;  there  seemed  to  be  something  which 
struck  a  great  boulder  below  them,  but  it  may 
have  been  a  keg  or  piece  of  plank,  they  could 
not  tell.  When  they  looked  at  the  vessel  again, 
the  last  man  had  come  down  safely,  and  the  boat 
was  turning  away  from  the  wreck. 

So  long  as  she  was  skimming  over  the  crests 
of  the  waves  toward  the  shore,  there  was  but 
little  danger  ;  but  at  the  same  instant  it  came 
into  the  minds  of  the  two  women,  now  both 
looking  intently  at  the  same  boat,  to  get  up 
to  the  top  of  the  Head  and  cross  over  the  few 
yards  separating  them  from  that  part  of  the 
cliff  which  looked  down  on  the  beach  where 
the  boat  must  land.  As  fast  as  they  could, 
they  scrambled  to  the  top  of  the  gully ;  but 
when  they  left  the  shelter  of  the  protecting 
crag,  the  wind  nearly  blew  them  down.  Now, 
however,  it  was  a  stronger  passion  than  mere 


368  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

curiosity  which  made  them  face  the  storm. 
Clara's  shawl  was  torn  from  her  shoulders 
and  flew  off  in  the  air ;  but  scrambling  for- 
ward, and  wrestling  with  the  wind  as  best 
they  could,  it  was  a  very  little  time  before  they 
reached  the  spot,  and,  crouching  down  on  the 
ground,  watched  for  the  coming  of  the  boat. 

The  high  bluffs  which  made  Rainbow  Head 
fell  away  suddenly  at  last,  and  it  was  on  a 
broad  sloping  beach,  free  from  rocks,  where 
the  surf  broke  in  even  line,  that  the  boat  must 
land.  From  where  they  crouched  they  could 
see  it  come  around  the  Head  and  steer  for  the 
beach.  In  one  of  the  few  moments  of  waiting, 
while  Clara  was  turning  her  eyes  from  those 
awful  rollers  into  which  the  boat  soon  must 
plunge,  to  the  great  waves  which  now  tossed 
it  about  so  lightly  and  so  easily,  she  heard 
Mary  whisper  shrilly  to  herself,  "  Three  have 
gone,  but  one  was  not  he ;  there  are  five 
left." 

She  looked  up  at  Mary ;  Mary  still  held  her 
hand  tightly,  but  was  looking  out  into  the  storm, 
not  at  the  boat,  —  her  face  working  strangely,  so 
that  Clara  was  frightened. 

"  Do  not  think  of  it  like  that,"  she  said,  in- 
stinctively. "  He  will  come  in  safe." 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  369 

Mary's  face  changed,  and  she  turned  quickly 
to  Clara :  "  God  bless  you  for  saying  so  !  "  Then, 
fixing  her  eyes  on  Clara  as  if  she  would  read  her 
through,  she  said  abruptly,  "And  he  loves  you, 
—  Mr.  Holyoke,  I  mean,  —  does  n't  he  ? " 

Surprise  at  the  question,  as  well  as  the  awful 
situation  they  were  in,  kept  Clara  from  being 
angry.  "  Yes,"  she  said  simply. 

"  And  you  love  him,  don't  you  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Clara,  with  even  less  hesitation. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  !  "  said  Mary  ;  and  with  a 
long  sob  of  relief  she  buried  her  face  in  Clara's 
dress,  and  cried  as  if  her  tears  had  been  pent  up 
for  weeks,  and  were  flowing  freely  now  because 
there  was  no  cause  for  them. 

The  boat  had  swept  around  the  Head  when 
Mary  raised  her  face  again.  The  men  were  no 
longer  pulling  hard ;  Clara  and  Mary  could  see 
that  Captain  Rogers  was  giving  orders,  and 
that  he  was  waiting  for  the  favorable  moment. 
At  last,  as  if  with  one  impulse,  the  men  sprang 
at  the  oars,  and  the  boat  shot  forward  with  in- 
credible swiftness.  For  an  instant  it  looked  as 
if  she  would  sweep  in  on  the  crest  and  be  carried 
far  up  on  the  land  ;  but  she  was  a  second  too 
late,  and  the  huge  wave,  catching  her  at  just 
the  wrong  moment,  flung  her  over  and  over,  so 
24 


3/0  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

that  not  a  man  was  left  in  her.  Some  of  them 
were  thrown  far  up  on  the  beach,  and  scrambled, 
dripping,  out  of  the  surf;  others,  drawn  back  by 
the  undertow,  yet  had  strength  enough  to  tear 
themselves  clear  when  the  next  wave  came  in  ; 
it  was  all  so  confused  that  they  could  not  reckon 
how  many  were  saved,  or  distinguish  one  man 
from  another.  There  was  one  seaman,  however, 
one  of  those  who  had  belonged  to  the  brigantine, 
at  whom  they  both  were  looking.  He  had  lighted 
a  long  way  up  the  beach  and  was  unhurt ;  but 
instead  of  rushing  forward  and  avoiding  the 
next  wave,  as  he  might  have  done,  he  turned 
about,  and  when  it  came  in  dashed  back  into 
the  surf.  For  a  moment  they  could  not  see  him 
or  guess  the  reason  of  his  act  ;  but  when  the 
wave  went  back  they  saw  him  struggling  to 
drag  ashore  another  man,  who  seemed  to  have 
been  stunned  in  the  upsetting  of  the  boat.  He 
dragged  him  forward  a  few  feet ;  then  another 
wave  rushed  in  and  beat  him  down.  When  it 
withdrew  he  made  another  effort,  and  dragged 
his  companion  up  to  the  higher  part  of  the 
beach  ;  then  seizing  him  in  his  arms,  he  carried 
the  unconscious  man  out  of  reach  of  the  surf. 

Clara  was  straining  her  eyes  to  catch  a  sight 
of  George's  figure  among  the  groups  of  men; 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 


371 


she  could  make  out  Roger's  tall  form  and  the 
broad  shoulders  of  the  Captain,  and  there  was 
a  confused  mass  besides.  She  heard  Mary  cry, 
"It  is  he!"  and  then  they  both  plunged  from 
their  high  perch- down  the  steep  bank  to  the 
barren  field  where  the  men  were  standing:. 

o 

As  the  women  rushed  on,  the  group  of  men 
opened  for  them  to  reach  the  spot  where  the 
man  whom  Herman  had  saved  lay  on  the  coarse 
beach-grass.  It  was  George  Holyoke. 

Restraining  herself,  she  did  not  know  how, 
Clara  knelt  beside  him,  opposite  Harry  Larkyns, 
and  looked  at  the  white  face  turned  up  to  her. 
"  Is  he  killed  ?  "  she  had  hardly  strength  enough 
to  say. 

"  He  is  all  right,  Miss  Ellison,"  said  Harry, 
gayly  ;  "only  a  little  stunned:  he  will  come  to 
in  a  moment.  We  are  all  safe  except  those 
three  poor  fellows  that  you  saw." 

In  the  mean  time  Mary  had  gone  straight  up 
to  Herman,  whose  back  was  toward  her,  and  had 
spoken  his  name,  —  "Herman!"  He  turned, — 
"Mary!" 

They  looked  at  each  other  for  one  moment ; 
it  seemed  that  each  was  waiting  for  the  other  to 
speak.  Herman  broke  the  silence. 

"And  he?"  he  said,  looking  at  Mary  as  if 


372  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

he  would  see  through  her,  and  read  the  answer 
whether  she  spoke  or  not. 

"That  is  he,"  said  Mary,  looking  down  at 
George  Holyoke,  who  was  just  opening  his  eyes. 
Herman  started  ever  so  slightly. 

"  He  is  a  brave  man,"  he  said  ;  "  but —  " 

Mary  took  a  step  back  from  the  group  and 
Herman  followed. 

"  Look  at  that  girl,"  she  said,  with  almost  a 
smile  ;  "and  he  loves  her  too." 

And  when  Herman  looked  back  again  toward 
Mary,  all  doubt  was  gone  from  his  face  forever. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  373 


XXI. 

r  I  ""HE  wind  had  gone  down,  the  sky  was  with- 

-*-  out  a  cloud,  and  Rainbow  Head  was  as 
green  as  its  sparse  vegetation  would  allow,  when 
the  sun  rose  the  next  morning.  There  was  no 
trace  of  the  storm  but  the  thunder  of  the  surf 
at  the  foot  of  the  cliff  and  the  miserable  remains 
of  the  brigantine  ;  for  something  which  once  was 
the  shell  of  a  man  had  been  gently  laid  out  of 
sight  by  his  mates.  George  and  Herman  were 
standing  together,  looking  out  to  sea. 

"  The  old  craft  never  will  be  in  commission 
again,"  said  Herman,  half  as  if  he  grieved  at 
the  loss  of  an  old  friend,  and  half  as  if  he  were 
ashamed  to  own  it. 

"  Excuse  me  for  asking  the  question ;  but  do 
you  lose  much  by  her  ? "  said  George. 

"  No,  hardly  anything.  We'd  shipped  a  good 
deal  of  our  oil,  and  she  was  well  insured  ;  her 
last  voyage  was  a  good  one,"  he  added,  with 


374  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

a  look  of  pride.  "  It  does  n't  look  much  now 
as  it  did  yesterday,  sir,"  he  went  on. 

George  paused  a  moment ;  then  the  frankness 
which  fills  a  very  happy  man  got  possession  of 
him,  and  he  spoke  out  of  the  fulness  of  his 
heart.  "  We  both  of  us  had  very  strong  rea- 
sons for  getting  safe  to  shore  yesterday,  Captain 
Crocker ;  we  had  something  more  than  our  lives 
to  care  about.  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me  for 
speaking  of  it,  but  I  know  that  you  are  engaged 
to  be  married  to  a  noble  woman,  one  who  would 
make  any  man  happy." 

Herman  Crocker  took  George's  hand.  "  I 
hope  I  may  be  worthy  of  her,  sir,"  he  said, 
looking  George  full  in  the  face.  "  You  don't 
know  how  good  she  is."  Then,  after  a  pause, 
"  I  have  known  more  about  you  than  that  you 
saved  our  lives  yesterday,  and  that  is  enough." 

"  We  will  each  thank  the  other  for  having 
saved  his  life,  and  then  let  it  be  done  for  good 
and  all,"  said  George,  laughing.  "If  not,  we 
never  shall  get  through  our  thanks."  Then  he 
added,  as  his  face  became  serious  :  "  And  we 
none  of  us  know  how  good  a  woman  is.  Here  is 
Miss  Ellison,"  he  said,  looking  proudly  at  Clara. 
"  She  has  promised  to  be  my  wife,"  he  added,  as 
his  frankness  again  conquered  him. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  375 

He  took  a  step  backwards  to  look  at  them 
after  she  had  come  forward  and  stood  beside 
Herman,  and  he  thought  that  she  never  had 
been  so  pretty  as  when  her  dainty  figure  stood 
beside  the  broad-shouldered,  sunburnt  whaler. 
She  glanced  back  with  a  smile  at  George,  to 
see  if  he  had  told  their  secret.  "  It  was  a  ro- 
mantic home-coming,  for  you  to  be  shipwrecked 
at  the  feet  of  your  lady-love,  was  n't  it,.  Mr. 
Crocker ;  and  then  to  save  the  man  who  had 
helped  save  you,  in  the  sight  of  your  lass  and 
of  his?"  she  said,  her  voice  changing  from 
gayety  to  seriousness  as  she  spoke,  and  looking 
back  again  at  George. 

"It  doesn't  look  much  like  last  night,"  said 
Herman,  not  knowing  how  to  answer  her. 

"No;  what  a  delightful  change!"  said  Clara. 
"  There  is  the  gully  where  we  stood  to  watch  the 
vessel.  It  was  horribly  dark  and  wet  then  ;  now 
that  white  cliff  dazzles  me ; "  and  she  put  up  her 
hand  to  shade  her  eyes. 

"  I  was  happier  last  night  in  that  gully  than 
I  ever  expect  to  be  again  when  I  am  there," 
said  George,  in  a  low  tone  to  her. 

"  Were  you  ?  Then  we  won't  go  there  to-day, 
for  it  would  be  humiliating  to  me."  And  she 
smiled  so  brightly  in  George's  face  that  he 


376  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

was  almost  ready  to  unsay  what  he  had  said. 
Herman  was  in  the  way,  and  knew  it ;  besides,  he 
must  get  off  to  the  wreck ;  so  he  left  them  stand- 
ing together.  When  he  was  out  of  hearing, 
Clara  turned  to  George,  with  a  face  that  was 
serious  enough. 

"  Let  us  sit  down  here,"  she  said  ;  "  there  is 
something  I  want  to  say  to  you."  They  sat 
down  together  on  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  but  it 
was  a  little  while  before  she  began  to  speak. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  now,"  she  said,  "  how  it  was 
between  you  and  Mary  Rogers  ?  I  know  you 
love  me  now,  —  at  least  I  think  I  do,"  she  went 
on,  looking  up  into  his  face  and  winning  a  look 
from  him  that  made  her  sure  ;  "but  if  you  will 
tell  me,  I  think  I  shall  be  happier  to  know  how 
it  was  then." 

George  looked  down  at  her  ;  he  spoke  slowly, 
but  without  hesitation.  "  I  will  tell  you  the 
whole  truth  from  beginning  to  end,  if  you  ask 
me,"  he  said.  "  It  is  for  you  to  choose." 

Although  she  had  asked  him  a  moment 
before,  there  was  a  long  pause  now,  and  her 
face  changed  several  times,  as  if  her  choice  were 
wavering.  At  last  she  said,  "  Yes,  I  do  ask  it. 
I  can  trust  you." 

"  I  have  known  you  ever  since  I  was  a  boy, 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  377 

and  there  has  not  been  a  time  when  I  have  not 
cared  more  for  you  than  for  any  woman  —  except 
my  mother.     I  do  not  think  that  I  was  in  love 
with  you.     I  know  I  was  not,  for  I  am  in  love 
with  you  now,  and  I  know  how  different  this  is  ; 
but  I  think  that  I  should  have  been,  if  you  had 
not  been  so  bright,  so  far  away  from  a  clumsy 
fellow  like  me,  that  I  did  not  dare.     When  other 
boys,  and  afterward  when  other  men,  spoke  to 
you  as  if  it  were  natural  to  them,  I  envied  them 
bitterly  ;  I  could  not  do  it.     It  is  the  truth,  that 
I  trembled  in  my  mind  —  and  very  often  in  my 
body,  for  the  matter  of  that  —  when  I  spoke  to  any 
young  girl  except  my  good  Cousin  Ann ;  and  with 
you  more  than  with  any  one  else,  because  I  was 
the  more  afraid  that  I  should  be  rude  or  uncouth. 
But  when  I  was  abroad,  and  away  from  you,  I 
grew  bolder,  and  I  began  to  see  that  I  loved  you, 
though  it  was  not  with  a  millionth  part  of  what 
I  feel  to-day.     At  the  garden  party  Mrs.  Stan- 
dish  gave,  I  determined  to  begin,  and  I  thought 
that  I  could  overmaster  my  shyness.     You  re- 
member how  I  behaved  ;  how  clumsy  and  stupid 
I  was,  and  at  last  how  rude.      I  left  the  place 
disgusted  with  myself  and  everything  else.    I  said 
to  myself  that  it  was  of  no  use  for  me  to  think 
of  you  ;  that  you  never  could  do  anything  but 


378  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

despise  an  idiot  like  me.  If  I  really  had  loved 
you  with  my  whole  heart  then,  of  course  I  should 
have  felt  differently  ;  but  I  suppose  that  I  did  not. 
I  came  to  Stapleton.  Miss  Rogers  was  pretty, 
and  our  acquaintance  began  with  an  adventure. 
I  saw  that  she  was  good  and  clever,  and  I  found 
that  I  did  not  make  a  fool  of  myself  before  her. 
I  am  speaking  the  whole  truth,  Clara,  and  there- 
fore I  say  that  I  began  to  fancy  I  might  fall  in 
love  with  her,  when  she  told  me  her  story.  It 
was  not  pleasant  for  me  to  hear  ;  it  never  is 
pleasant  for  a  man  who  is  not  married  or  en- 
gaged to  hear  that  a  pretty  girl  whom  he  knows 
well  belongs  to  another  man.  The  day  after  she 
told  me,  I  saw  you,  and  found  out  that  I  was  in 
love  with  you,  and  almost  shuddered  to  think 
how  near  I  had  come  to  losing  you  by  my  own 
fault.  I  never  had  much  hope,  but  you  were 
so  kind  to  me  that  I  began  to  hope  almost  in 
spite  of  myself.  Then  came  the  day  of  our  drive 
here,  —  and  you  know  the  rest.  You  asked  to 
hear  the  story,  and  I  have  told  you  the  whole, 
because  I  thought  you  would  forget  it  the  more 
easily,  and  forget  that  there  ever  was  a  time  when 
I  did  not  love  you  more  than  all  the  world." 

Clara    heard,    and    knew    that    he    withheld 
nothing,  though  it  may  be  that  in  her  inmost 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  379 

mind  she  thought  that  his  present  feelings  had 
colored  his  recollection  of  those  which  were 
past. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  and  she  put  her  hand 
on  his  shoulder.  "  Do  you  know,  George,  that 
this  is  our  first  confidence  ?  I  hope  that  all  the 
others  will  be  as  happy." 

It  was  a  little  later  on  the  same  morning  that 
Roger  met  Hildegarde  walking  on  the  cliff,  and 
as  he  came  toward  her  he  thought  she  did  not 
meet  him  with  quite  the  same  open-eyed  frank- 
ness she  was  wont  to  have.  He  came  straight 
up  to  her,  and  then,  as  if  he  had  framed  his  whole 
sentence  in  his  mind  without  leaving  a  word  to 
chance,  he  spoke  constrainedly,  and  with  an  em- 
barrassment which  seemed  to  make  a  different 
man  of  him.  "Miss  Standish,  when  we  were  on 
the  island  I  told  you  that  if  ever  I  was  safe  on 
shore  I  would  leave  you,  and  prove  how  much 
the  being  with  you  had  changed  me.  I  believed 
then  what  I  said.  Now  I  find  that  first  I  must 
ask  if  you  will  not  go  with  me.  If  you  send  me 
away,  I  will  go  as  I  promised,  and  do  rriy  best ;  but 
it  will  be  a  much  better  best  if  you  will  say  yes." 
She  raised  her  face  to  his,  and  said  simply, 
"  Yes."  And  as  he  looked  into  her  face,  he 
thought  he  had  never  loved  her  before. 


380  SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY. 

It  was  as  long  a  drive  from  Rainbow  Head  to 
Grove  Heights  as  it  had  been  when  the  party 
went  over  the  road  in  the  opposite  direction,  but 
it  seemed  much  shorter,  to  many  of  them  at  least. 
There  was  a  smile  of  pleasure  and  triumph  on 
the  faces  of  Mrs.  Standish  and  Ann,  which  showed 
that  they  were  too  well  satisfied  to  be  bored  even 
by  a  hot  drive  ;  Ann  became  charitable  even  with 
Caroline  and  merciful  to  Peter.  Both  engage- 
ments had  been  guessed  by  every  one.  Harry 
declared  himself  downcast  at  the  loss  of  two 
pretty  girls  at  once,  and  offered  to  take  Ann 
for  fear  he  never  should  have  a  chance  to  do 
better;  but  otherwise  even  he  was  cheerful. 

It  was  in  the  cool  of  the  evening,  and  both 
gentlemen  and  ladies  were  passing  out  upon  the 
broad  piazza  of  the  Sea-Breeze  House,  when 
Mrs.  Standish  looked  inquisitively  at  a  gentle- 
man and  lady  sitting  together  as  if  they  had 
been  lately  made  man  and  wife.  He  was  a 
good-looking  fellow  between  twenty-five  and 
thirty,  evidently  born  and  bred  a  gentleman, 
though  the  lines  of  his  face  were  somewhat 
heavy,  and  his  clothes  had  not  been  made  by  a 
fashionable  tailor.  His  wife  was  some  years 
younger,  fresh  and  rather  pretty,  dressed  in  too 
great  a  variety  of  colors  for  good  taste,  with  a 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-+TORY.  381 

shrill  voice  which  pierced  to  the  remote  corners 
of  the  piazza..  George  and  Roger  came  out  to- 
gether behind  Mrs.  Standish,  and  the  latter  said 
with  a  start  :  "  Look  there,  George  ;  it  's  John 
Heston  and  the  prairie  belle.  Now  we  shall  be 
able  to  decide  which  of  us  was  right." 

When  the  gentleman  saw  Mrs.  Standish  he 
spoke  a  word  in  a  low  tone  to  his  wife,  who 
bridled  and  tried  to  look  languidly  indifferent. 
Then  he  rose  and  came  forward. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Heston  ? "  said  Mrs. 
Standish,  rather  coldly.  "'  I  did  not  know  that 
you  were  in  this  part  of  the  country." 

"  Yes,"  said  John  Heston,  confusedly.  "  Mrs. 
Heston  —  my  wife  —  never  has  come  East  be- 
fore, and  I  wanted  to  show  her  the  part  of  the 
world  that  I  came  from.  She  had  some  friends 
staying  here,  so  we  dropped  down  to  this  out-of- 
the-way  place." 

"  And  that  is  Mrs.  Heston,"  said  Mrs.  Stan- 
dish,  graciously.  "  I  congratulate  you  on  your 
choice,"  she  went  on,  picking  that  one  little 
complimentary  phrase  out  of  her  large  and  well- 
assorted  store.  "  Will  you  present  me  ?  " 

"  With  great  pleasure.  I  shall  be  delighted," 
murmured  Heston,  his  confusion  showing  that 
he  spoke  the  truth. 


382  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

The  presentation  was  gone  through,  though  it 
was  rather  an  ordeal  for  Heston  ;  he  may  have 
been  perfectly  satisfied  himself,  but  he  knew 
that  Mrs.  Standish's  approval  meant  much. 
As  for  that  lady,  perhaps  she  gauged  Mrs. 
Heston  pretty  accurately  at  first  sight  ;  her 
manners,  however,  showed  nothing  but  the 
most  finished  satisfaction,  and  she  presented 
her  "young  people,"  as  she  called  them,  to  Mrs. 
Heston  as  if  the  latter  were  an  old  acquaint- 
ance. Meantime  the  young  men  surrounded 
Heston  himself. 

Sometimes  there  is  an  awkward  pause  when 
people  who  have  no  common  interests,  and  who 
are  perfectly  ignorant  of  each  other's  feelings, 
are  thrown  together  for  the  first  time.  There 
was  no  such  pause  here. 

"  I  declare  I  am  quite  jealous  of  you  all," 
Mrs.  Heston  began  glibly,  in  a  tone  of  voice 
that  made  Mrs.  Standish  start,  when  she  saw 
five  people  turn  around  and  look  at  her.  "  You 
have  all  of  you  known  Mr.  Heston  so  much 
longer  than  I.  I  must  look  out  to  see  that  he 
does  not  run  off  with  you." 

"  Poor  man,  I  should  think  so!"  said  Ann  to 
Caroline,  in  the  low  tone  that  answers  its  pur- 
pose so  much  better  than  a  whisper. 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  383 

Mrs.  Standish's  conversational  currency  did 
not  contain  change  for  Mrs.  Heston's  remark. 

"  I  assure  you  he  did  not  look  as  if  he  wished 
to  run  away  when  we  came  out  on  the  piazza," 
she  said  vaguely,  trying  to  make  her  face  express 
something  pleasant. 

"  Oh,  well ;  you  know  I  don't  want  to  have  us 
look  like  a  couple  on  their  honeymoon  ;  it  's 
common,  you  know.  I  tell  Mr.  H.  he  must 
make  believe  be  rude  to  me  sometimes,  so  that 
people  sha'  n't  find  us  out.  I  'm  afraid  he  finds 
it  rather  hard,  though,"  she  went  on,  with  an 
arch  simper. 

"  Don't  be  distressed,  Mrs.  Heston.  Men 
learn  those  things  quite  soon  enough,"  said 
Ann,  sympathetically. 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure  they  do,  my  dear  Miss 
Brattle.  You  see  I  have  n't  forgotten  any  one's 
name,  though  there  are  so  many  of  you.  They 
are  deceitful  wretches,  as  I  used  to  tell  Mr. 
H.  when  he  was  courting  me.  I  told  him  that 
he  was  taking  me  in,  though  he  protested 
he  was  n't.  At  any  rate,  he  succeeded,  and  here 
I  am,"  she  said,  with  a  happy  look  at  her  hus- 
band, which  seemed  to  break  out  on  her  face  in 
spite  of  herself. 


384  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

"  I  wish  she  was  n't,"  said  Caroline  to  Ann, 
in  a  low  tone. 

"  I  am  surprised  at  you,  Carrie,"  Ann  mur- 
mured back.  "  Why,  she  is  the  most  amusing 
creature  I  have  seen  for  a  long  time."  Then, 
aloud,  "  This  is  a  pleasant  place  for  you  to  begin 
your  Eastern  trip  with." 

"Oh,  isn't  it  too  delightful?  Really,  Mrs. 
Standish,  there  are  so  many  people  here  that 
I  know.  It  seems  quite  like  Mushroom  City 
over  again.  And  I  suppose  you  know  a  great 
many  more  people  here  than  I  do,"  she  went 
on,  throwing  this  out  as  a  compliment. 

"  No,  I  have  not  met  any  one  here  until  I 
saw  Mr.  Heston,"  said  Mrs.  Standish,  who 
found  it  more  than  she  could  bear,  to  be  classed 
with  the  companions  of  the  denizens  of  Mush- 
room City. 

"  No  ? "  said  Mrs.  Heston.  "  And  then  the 
houses  are  so  lovely.  There  is  one  on  Camellia 
Avenue  which  belongs  to  Mr.  Smithson,  — 
green,  with  pink  blinds  and  a  yellow  roof  ;  it 's 
so  original." 

"  No,  it  is  n't,"  said  Ann,  under  her  breath. 
"  It  is  copied  from  the  Noah's  Ark  I  used  to 
play  with  when  I  was  a  child." 


SIMPLY  A  LOVE-STORY.  385 

"  Yes,  very  pretty,"  said  Mrs.  Standish,  gulp- 
ing down  the  lie  more  easily  because  no  one 
but  Mrs.  Heston  could  possibly  suspect  her  of 
meaning  what  she  said. 

"  That  is  the  favorite  style  in  Mushroom 
City,  I  suppose,"  said  Ann,  aloud. 

"  No,  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  it  is  n't,"  said 
Mrs.  Heston,  with  a  sigh  ;  "we  have  n't  gone  in 
very  much  for  beauty  yet." 

"  You  must  find  it  very  pleasant  meeting 
old  friends  here  so  far  away  from  home,1'  said 
Hildegarde. 

"  Yes,  very  pleasant.  Of  course  there  is  John 
always,  but  everything  else  looks  so  different 
here  in  the  East ;  the  people  seem  hardly  the 
same.  I  am  very  glad  to  have  John  meet  some 
of  his  old  friends,  though  I  try  to  make  it  seem 
like  home  to  him  in  Mushroom  City." 

"  Mabel,  we  must  be  going,"  broke  in  John 
Heston,  coming  out  from  the  group  of  men  who 
surrounded  him.  "  We  promised  to  go  to  the 
SmithsonsV 

"  Well,  Mr.  H.,  if  you  insist,  I  suppose  I  must 
go.  I  promised  to  obey  you,  I  believe."  And 
with  another  simper  she  took  her  husband's  arm 
and  left  the  piazza. 

"  How  about  John  Heston  now  ?  "  said  Roger 
25 


386  SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY. 

to  George  when  the  couple  was  out  of  hearing. 
"  Which  of  us  was  right  ?  " 

"Confess  that  Heston's  case  is  not  like  the 
one  you  know  you  had  in  your  mind,"  said 
George,  wheeling  round  on  him. 

"  I  confess,"  said  Roger,  after  a  moment's 
pause  ;  "  but  that  does  n't  prove  your  point." 

"And  what  is  sh.e  like?"  said  Harry  to  the 
ladies.  "  I  know  that  you  all  are  dying  to 
tell." 

"  I  would  n't  have  believed  it  possible,"  said 
Mrs.  Standish  ;  "  she  might  have  been  queer  and 
gauche>  but  not  like  that." 

"  Nice  natural  manners  she  has,"  said  Ann. 

"  How  I  pity  poor  John  Heston  ! "  said  Clara, 
dolefully. 

"  I  don't,"  said  Hildegarde.  "  Because  she  is 
affected,  you  think  she  has  n't  a  heart ;  the  way 
she  spoke  of  her  husband  shows  she  has  a  warm 
one." 

"  Do  you  really  think  all  that  about  Mrs. 
Heston  ? "  said  Roger  in  a  low  voice  to  her. 

"  Why,  yes  ;  don't  you  ?  "  said  Hildegarde, 
turning  round  and  looking  up  at  him. 

"I  suppose  I  do  now,"  he  said,  with  a  smile. 
"  I  certainly  did  not  a  moment  ago." 

"  There  is  one  thing  you  must  promise  me, 


SIMPLY  A   LOVE-STORY.  387 

Roger,"  said  Hildegarde  as  they  drew  back  from 
the  others. 

"  And  what  is  that  ?  " 

"  Never  to  call  me  Mrs.  U.  after  we  are  mar- 
ried," she  said,  laughing. 


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